Borrowed Time
by TV Manic 2
Summary: The mission is completed. Wyatt is good and the future is saved. All that's left is for Chris to enjoy his much deserved Afterlife – all that's missing is his name on Death's List. A Chris-centric ChangedFuture fic set after the Season 6 finale
1. Displacement

**Charmed -:- Borrowed Time**

**Summary:**

The mission is completed. Wyatt is good and the future is saved. All that's left is for Chris to enjoy his much deserved Afterlife – all that's missing is his name on Death's List. A Chris-centric angst fest set after the Season 6 finale

**Setting/Spoilers:**

From _It's a Bad, Bad World_, with references to most of Season 6 set in a future based on what we glimpsed at the end of _Forever Charmed_. Basically, anything's fair game in terms of spoilers

**Pairings:**

Just the canon pairings with maybe just a hint of Chris/Bianca if it gets to that

**Genre/Rating:**

Rated T to be safe with dabblings in pretty much every genre but mainly Angst & Hurt/Comfort

**Disclaimer:**

Is this really necessary? Would I really be here if I actually had any ownership over Charmed? Nope, but there would be a spin-off series dedicated entirely to Future Chris and Wyatt :P

**Author's Note(s):**

Okay, this may look like a multi-chapter fic (once I get to adding more chapters that is...) but it's actually just a collection of one-shots based around the premise of What the Hell Happened to Chris? This is a futurefic that will span a year (just like the series) and will be made up of several episodes. Each chapter is essentially a story in its own right that will make up the overall season arc. Hopefully that made sense :P But let's just get started, shall we?

* * *

**One -:- Displacement**

**The Halliwell Manor – 2003 **

It was just typical really. Terribly ironic. And, a bit of a relief.

Okay, so dying hadn't been on Chris's list of options as to how he was going to get himself out of his 'stuck in the past' problem, and no, it had not been fun. When time-travel had been the only option to save his wayward brother, the issue had been how he was going to get back to 2002, not how he was getting home again. Success was desired, obviously, but it hadn't been expected, so no contingencies for a safe way back had ever been devised. Gideon had solved that problem.

When he had left, the day wasn't quite saved, but Chris was confident that Leo…_Dad…_could finish the job now. His yet to be born mini-me was going to grow up in a completely different world than he had – he never would have fit in anyway. No, the mission was complete, and Chris had an Afterlife to enjoy.

Or so he thought.

The pain of being stabbed and slipping away faded into the darkness, leaving him in a void for an indeterminable amount of time. Eventually he opened his eyes to see the ceiling he had been staring at before his trip to the other side of the veil. Familiar with the Ghostly Plane from his earlier brush with non-existence, he recognised the greyed-out colour scheme with little surprise. Clambering to his feet his only concern came from the lack of the Angel of Death's presence. Maybe he had screwed up his own life so much that he was now doomed to stay in the Ghostly Plane for eternity. _Come on…where's the Light already?_

"Well, this is odd."

Chris spun at the sudden voice to find the much-awaited Angel of Death in all his ghostly glory. "What's odd?"

Death's brow furrowed in confusion as he summoned his trusty list and studied it curiously. He kept glancing at Chris as if it were his fault for making his day difficult. "You're not on my List."

Chris didn't know whether to be worried, relieved or both. Surely it was a good thing to not be on Death's List…but then again, he was pretty damn sure that he had most definitely just died. "What does that mean?" Death shrugged, completely perplexed, making Chris roll his eyes and remark with a smirk "Maybe you should call your supervisor."

Death made to scowl, then seemed to reconsider. His List disappeared in puff of smoke to leave his hands free. He spread his arms, palms facing skywards as if he were praying to the Heavens. Seconds later, a gold orb fizzled into existence and spun like yarn into the form of a wise-looking woman dressed entirely in white.

"Christopher," the Angel of Destiny greeted solemnly. She waved Death away and drew herself taller, her hands clasped before her. She gave an ill-practiced smile that didn't reach her sorrow-tinged eyes. "Happy Birthday."

That took Chris by surprise. He had never been one to celebrate his birthday, even before his ill-fated fourteenth, but with everything that had happened that day he had completely forgotten his twenty-third. It was distinctly odd to hear the salutation from the Angel of Destiny while they stood in the Ghostly Plane just a few minutes following his apparent death. "Thanks…?" he replied uncertainly. "So, am I dead?"

"That is complicated," she replied with a small nod. She then turned and began walking, not waiting to see if Chris followed. They strode out into the grey scale hallway followed by the odd echoing of their steps in the unnaturally empty space. "In a few hours, you are going to be born, so no Christopher, you are not dead… in the traditional sense at least. However, the Grand Design centres on an incredibly delicate balance and the presence of two of you threatens it. I'm afraid there is only room for _one _Christopher Halliwell."

He felt like the thick kid in class as he tried to follow what she was saying. "So what does that mean?"

"You cannot move on, and yet you cannot stay. I am afraid there is just no place for you anymore."

That froze Chris in his tracks at the top of the stairs making the Angel of Destiny turn to face him. This was beyond typical. After everything he had done, all he had sacrificed, he couldn't even die properly? He had just saved the freaking world from his brother's insane reign and now there was _no place for him?_ He didn't know whether to be angry or resigned to yet another cosmic kick in the teeth. After a moment though, he sighed, and went for the latter – he was too used to being let down to expect anything different. "So…what now?"

"You have fulfilled your destiny, playing your role in the Grand Design beyond everyone's expectations. You were born to save your brother and keep the Twice Blessed on the path of good." Chris rolled his eyes. "There is no longer a part for you to play, however, I believe that no good deed should go unrewarded."

The Angel of Destiny recommenced walking and descended the stairs, heading for the sunroom. Chris was left to follow as he tried to decipher the meaning of her words. _It would be great to get a straight answer sometime soon_ he inwardly huffed as the pair of them came to a stop again. The muted colours of the Ghostly Plane washed away with an odd whistling sound. "What's going on?"

"You are about to merge with your current self," she replied matter-of-factly. "Your two souls from each timeline will take up residence in the same body and allow you to enjoy the new world that you have created."

"Is that even possible?" Chris asked, not quite believing that he really wasn't dead. The Angel of Destiny shrugged uncharacteristically, making him smirk. "Alright, what's the catch?"

A sad smile marred the lady in white's features. "You can only stay long enough for your two souls to truly become one before you will be removed from the Grand Design. You will only have one year. And then you _will _be on Death's List."

"A year?" Chris repeated in shock, and then smiled. It was more than he had dared to hope for. A stay of execution was better than ceasing to exist, right? And he would get to experience a timeline without an evil brother, a decimated family and a dystopian world. Only he could see his inevitable, and very real, death in a year's time as a good thing. To be honest, he couldn't believe that his luck had finally changed.

The Angel of Destiny watched his reaction with more sympathy than he felt he warranted. As far as he was concerned things were finally looking up for him – he had been through far worse than a pre-determined death date.

"So, how does this work then?"

"You close your eyes; and wake up."

* * *

**P3 – 2026**

"Well, I can't believe you survived this long," Wyatt Halliwell smirked as he cuffed his younger brother round the back of the head. He ignored the irritated glare he received and continued taking the chairs down off the tables. It would be a few hours before the nightclub opened but there was still some setting up to do.

"Thanks," retorted Chris, not in the slightest bit grateful. He stood behind the bar wiping down the glasses in preparation for a busy Friday night. Not that they would be there. Nope, they'd be at home for the massive family feast their Mom had slaved over for Chris' twenty-third birthday. The entirety of their extended family was to be in attendance, much to his chagrin. He loved his family and everything; he just didn't feel the need to celebrate his birthday like they did. And there would be the re-telling of embarrassing stories from his misspent youth.

Wyatt grinned at him as if he had read his mind (though thankfully, that was _not_ one of his many tricks) and then passed the stage a glance. That night's band were just finishing their sound check, filling the empty club with a strange mix of broken melodies and bad chords. He then checked his watch for the twentieth time in the last five minutes.

"So… who you bringing tonight then…? Susan…?" Chris decided to change the subject from his own discomfort. He got his wish.

Wyatt scowled "It's Sarah, not Susan. Get it right."

"So we're still in the "S"s then?" he said teasingly. Sometimes Wyatt was worse than Aunt Phoebe before she met Uncle Coop. He seemed to have a different girl each week as he captured their attention and then lost them to neglect as he partook in his favourite pastime. Hunting down demons before they had the chance to hurt Innocents. He took his Twice Blessed duties very seriously. "Is she meeting you here?"

"Yeah, she said she wanted to try orbing or something," Wyatt shrugged, double-checking that the band wasn't likely to overhear. "She's taking the whole magic thing very well. Which is new."

"Wait until she meets the family – that might change her mind," Chris muttered under his breath, but his brother heard him regardless and gave him an irritated look, with just a hint of panic in his eyes.

But Chris was too distracted to decide whether he should continue playing on his brother's insecurity or console him. A strange feeling had suddenly come over him. His mind became all foggy and he blinked repetitively to try and clear the haze. And then as if he were being summoned, he just orbed out.

"Chris!" Wyatt hissed after his brother's dematerialised form. He then looked over at the band to see if they had noticed the magical disappearing act. Thankfully they seemed too caught up in apparently bad acoustics, but it had been a close one. Too close for his usually overly-cautious brother. "What the hell?"

* * *

**The Halliwell Manor – 2026**

The Angel of Destiny watched the light show with something akin to pride in her chest. The Chris who had died in the past had broken down into his Whitelighter orbs just as the Chris of this time had been summoned. Now the two sets of blue lights swirled indecisively as they tried to come up with the best way to reform. From the glow, the new Chris eventually took form. He then promptly hit the deck, unconscious.

"Good luck, Christopher," Destiny whispered to his sleeping form. "There may be more trials for you yet."

The gold orb fizzled away like a giant bumblebee, leaving the sunroom in silence. Day became evening as the sun descended through the sky outside. Hours passed, the stillness occasionally interrupted by the incessant ring of the present Chris's cell phone that fell only on deaf ears.

When Chris awoke he was struck by two distinct and contradicting thoughts. For one, he found himself still in the sunroom where he had been before; and secondly _what the hell am I doing back home?_ It was odd as the two memories fought for precedence in his mind. Part of him totally understood that this was to be expected when two completely different lives occur in one body, while the other half was utterly confused. This was not going to be easy.

After a moment of trying, and failing, to sort out the jumble that was his head, both aspects of his persona decided that it was best to get up. They…_he_…clambered back onto unsteady feet and got his first good look at his surroundings. Not much had changed since that morning; but it was a lot different than twenty-three years ago.

There was a distinct absence of Wyatt's playpen; which made sense considering he was twenty-five and no longer lived at home. The furniture had changed, probably several times over the years, and someone had redecorated at some point. The biggest difference though, was the photos.

They were everywhere. Group shots, school photos, holiday snaps and family portraits. Chris found himself drawn to them as he studied them curiously. It was odd to see happy pictures from after the age of fourteen. Well actually, it was odd to see _any _photos from after the age of fourteen. Most of the people smiling from their frames weren't even alive anymore, let alone playing happy families. But at the same time, he could recall each and every moment every photograph had been taken.

The most prominent picture was a family portrait that couldn't have been taken that long ago. He recognised a happier version of himself, his parents; and even Wyatt in brighter clothes and a haircut. But he couldn't quite figure out who the teenage girl was. In the bad timeline, as he was beginning to think of it, there had only been him and Wyatt… "I have a sister…?"

"Chris!"

He jumped, accidently orbing in the process. When he reformed in the same spot, the angry yet worried voice of his mother was still yelling for him. Taking a deep breath, he walked out into the reception area. "I'm here."

"Chris! Why haven't you been answering my calls – both magical and technological? Your brother called to tell me that you had just orbed out of the club without warning. I know you didn't want to work on your birthday but that's no reason to…"

They both froze the moment they saw each other. Piper had caught his strange expression and the haunted look in his eyes. She hadn't seen him look like that since… since twenty-three years ago. Chris almost didn't recognise her. She was older and little plumper than he remembered, but then again, the last time he had seen her he had been fourteen. And she had been dead. "Mom?"

"Oh Chris, what happened?" Piper closed the gap between them in an instant, her hand on his cheek and tears in her eyes. She had been afraid that her little boy would remember his other life ever since he had been born. She and Leo had decided to not tell Wyatt of his divergent timeline, nor little Chris of his doppelganger's heroic sacrifice. It was easier to forget that that had even been a possibility that way. "Tell me, what happened?"

Chris's first instinct was to lie. It had been second nature for so long that the words were already on the tip of his tongue before he had even decided what to say. But the other half of him had been honest with his mother since day one and couldn't bear the thought of lying to her. So he told her. That a few hours ago he had been dead but the Angel of Destiny had given him this opportunity. That now there were two Chris's in one body and that the confusion was likely to drive him crazy.

He left out the part about only having one year though. He figured that might be a tad too much for her to handle.

"She said that _there was no place for you_? That bitch!" Piper cursed angrily, and then she wrapped her arms around her youngest son and murmured in his ear. "You know that there is always a place for you here. Grand Design or not, you're my son and this is your home. Don't you ever think otherwise, okay?"

"I know, Mom," he whispered, enjoying the comfort he had thought long lost from her hug. Sure, he had hugged Piper in the past, but she hadn't been _his _Piper yet and it hadn't been the same. Now it was nine years after the Event that had claimed her a lifetime ago, and she was still here. "I missed you."

She pulled away, a stream of tears on each cheek, and smiled softly. She studied him a moment, able to see both versions of her son in his light green eyes, and then sighed. "Everyone is going to be here soon, I should get cleaned up."

Chris looked confused for a moment, before remembering it was his birthday and that the annual familial assault was nigh. "Err…I don't know if I can… It's confusing enough…"

"Nonsense," Piper grinned, rubbing the tears away leaving only slightly puffy eyes as evidence. "You are not going to miss your own birthday; not after all the slaving in the kitchen I've done. Who knows, maybe this will be just the nudge you need to get the memories straight."

He wasn't convinced, but he didn't have time to argue before a shimmer of blue orbs materialised into that of Wyatt. "There you are! Why the hell did you bail on me at P3?"

No excuses came to Chris as he cringed under his brother's familiarly angry gaze, so he turned to his mother for help. She placed a hand on each of them like a mediator. "It doesn't matter now, Wy. Now both of you, go set up the dining room. The rest of the family will arrive in a bit."

Wyatt rolled his eyes and brushed past Chris as he headed towards the kitchen. He thankfully missed the flinch his younger brother made at the contact, but Piper didn't. She gave him another reassuring smile and then made her way upstairs to fix her make-up.

Before following his mother's standing order, Chris closed his eyes a moment and tried to recall a memory from the good timeline of his brother. It would do no good if all he could see when he looked at Wyatt was the evil overlord who had gone out of his way to traumatise Chris. After a few minutes he was slightly more confident that he could be alone with his sibling without the urge to run away being too overwhelming. It was easier when Wyatt's irritated shout carried to the hall

"Hey! She said you should be helping too!"

* * *

He really wanted to run away.

There was no argument against that from either side of his new personality. Neither half of Chris really wanted to celebrate his birthday, let alone be drowned in the oppressive presence of his entire family. It was a confusing and emotional rollercoaster as he tried to sit and smile for the duration of the massive dinner. Ghosts from the bad timeline were now in the living flesh while cousins, and indeed a sibling, that had never existed before knew him better than he knew himself.

Piper had apparently told Leo and her sisters as they all kept passing Chris concerned looks. He avoided talking beyond what was necessary to avoid putting his foot in it by referencing things that had never occurred. His silence was apparently quite unusual and soon the concerned looks were coming from everyone.

He couldn't do it anymore.

During a course change he managed to subtly excuse himself and he barely managed to refrain from actually running up the stairs. He followed his memories from the good timeline to lead him to a sanctuary away from the circus of Halliwells downstairs. He found himself in what had once been the nursery that had been turned into his and Wyatt's old bedroom. It obviously hadn't been redecorated since they were teenagers, but as both of them had moved out a while ago the room only served as a place for them to crash while they were back home.

Chris sat down heavily on the edge of his bed and buried his head in his hands. This wasn't how he had imagined it was going to be when the Angel of Destiny had explained his new fate. How was he ever going to fit in when he couldn't even handle a simple family dinner? He was just too broken to do the Happy Family thing – he wasn't made for it. And now he had to stick with it for a whole year.

Suddenly that sounded like a _very_ long time.

There came a rapping on the door but he ignored it. However, the person on the other side apparently didn't require his permission and came right in anyway. The light flicked on, revealing what Chris could only describe as a miniature version of Piper. He really wasn't ready for a confrontation with a sister he had never even met yet.

"Hi, I'm Melinda, you're little sister," she introduced herself brightly, even extending a hand as if to shake. Chris looked up at her even more confused – if that was even possible for his disarrayed mind. "Don't worry, Mom didn't tell me, she didn't have to. I'm a telepath. I know all about the whole two timelines in one body and that obviously your previous life wasn't very good. Although, for the first time in my life, I can't read you. Where did you learn to shield your thoughts like that?"

"The Resistance," Chris replied without thinking. At this point it wasn't like there were future consequences to think about, but that didn't mean he really wanted to talk about the bad timeline. Melinda cocked her head curiously.

"Against Wyatt? Because he was evil, right?" she continued to press. "Did they use telepaths then? Wow, I never figured my ability would ever actually be useful. It just seems to get me in trouble now, oh, and give me really bad headaches. I don't like not being able to read you, its really odd. Maybe I can help? Try letting me in."

Well, she wasn't like Piper in the manner of actually being coherent. She spoke at a ridiculous pace, her train of thought changing tracks every other sentence while her deep brown eyes constantly stared into your own. "Err…I don't think… My heads enough of a mess right now. Maybe another time, Mel."

"Oh." She muttered dejectedly as she suddenly felt awkward. When she spoke again, she was a lot slower and quieter. "You _are_ still my big brother aren't you? You remember me, right? Because I really don't want to lose you."

Something about her vulnerable voice struck a nerve inside Chris. He remembered when they were kids at Magic School and she had come to him when she had picked up on another girl's negative thoughts towards her. It had been the first time she had discovered her powers and she had been in floods of tears. He had given her a hug and promised that he would always protect her and he would never, ever leave her alone. How could he have not recognised her?

"Come here," he beckoned, and she was by his side in an instant. He wrapped her up in a hug like he had back then, her head tucked neatly under his chin. "I'm sorry. I promise you, I'm not going anywhere."

_Well, not for another year anyway_. It was probably a very good thing that she couldn't read his thoughts just then. Instead, they just sat like that for a while, until Piper had to call them down for the cake. It was _Chris's_ birthday after all.

It got easier after that. The good timeline's memories seemed to come to him quicker, although there were moments where he would get stuck in bad and suddenly go all quiet again. He struggled to keep things natural when he was asked what he was going to do for his birthday next year, but he was pretty sure he had managed to keep his secret safe.

Eventually, the family dispersed with everyone going their separate ways. Wyatt went back to his apartment with the new girl he had brought with him to the party, and Piper offered for Chris to stay at the Manor that night. He lay in bed, staring at a ceiling that was both familiar and alien to him, wondering what he was going to do with his last year of life.

And that was the first day of the new Christopher Halliwell.


	2. The Menagerie

**Charmed -:- Borrowed Time**

**Episode Summary:**

Gnomes, Fairies, Wood Nymphs, and now Witches have been going missing with increasing frequency over the past few months, and it's Wyatt's job as the Twice Blessed to solve the mystery. However, the enigma that is Chris has him distracted. When trouble strikes a little too close to home, will Chris be able to keep his secret...?

**Author's Note(s):**

Okay, we are back! Sorry for the delay, I was away on holiday (which actually gave me the inspiration for this little ficlet!) Thanks to all my wonderful readers and a special shout out to lizardmomma and charmedtomeetyou for reviewing!

This chap/part/story…_whatever_…takes place about two or three weeks after Chris's birthday…

Enjoy!

* * *

**Two -:- The Menagerie **

**Chris's Apartment, San Francisco**

Something was wrong with his brother.

Wyatt didn't what or why, but he knew it had happened on his birthday. His normally friendly and relatively social brother had suddenly become withdrawn – so much so that Wyatt hadn't actually seen him in two weeks, and neither had anyone else for that matter. Mom, Dad, even his over-protective Aunts were all refusing to be worried, claiming that he just needed some time. Chris had only turned twenty-three; a little premature for a midlife crisis!

No, something was very, very wrong with his brother; and he wasn't going to leave Chris alone until he found out what it was.

He materialised in the living space of the small two-bed apartment, making the occupant of the kitchenette jump. It wasn't who Wyatt was looking for. "Hey Sean, you seen Chris?"

"Morning oh Twice Blessed one, never heard of a door?" Sean Cooper, Chris's roommate and first Charge as a Whitelighter, sarcastically greeted. The two of them had been friends since college when the Elders had meddled with their admissions to make them dorm mates. Sean was a reluctant and indecisive first-generation witch who had needed some serious baby-sitting in the magical world. He still did, hence the shared apartment. "The sulking one is in his room. Well he was last time I checked – but it's hard to tell when you people don't use regular exits."

"You will get over that one day, won't you?" Wyatt replied with an irritated eye-roll. His brother must have the patience of a saint to put up with this Charge. Sean shrugged non-committedly, and then recommenced eating his breakfast. "Has Chris seemed different to you recently?"

"You mean all silent and broody instead of loud and constantly nagging?" Sean asked, taking a ridiculously large mouthful of food. Wyatt nodded. "I wouldn't know – I haven't seen him in a fortnight. He refuses to leave his room." Sean finished chewing and grabbed up a bag. "Now, I have to go to work, see ya."

"Demon-hunting?" Wyatt asked curiously before Sean could use the lowly mortal escape route, commonly known as a 'door'.

"Hell no!" Sean denied forcefully. "The office. There is _no way_ I'm doing any of that stuff while my Whitelighter's out of commission."

"Well, be careful anyway," Wyatt warned, growing increasingly worried. Chris had never let his Whitelighter duties slip before; to leave his Charges high and dry like this, things must be even worse than he thought. "A load of Witches have gone missing recently – watch your back."

"Well that's just great," Sean huffed, slamming the door shut behind him loudly.

Wyatt was then left alone in the eerily quiet apartment, more determined than ever to figure out what had turned his brother into Mr Irresponsibility. He knocked on the bedroom door but received no answer. "Hey, Chris, it's me – you in there?" He knocked again, and then tried the handle to find it locked. Since when did Chris lock his door? "Chris, come on, let me in." He tried irritating his brother into opening the door with his incessant tapping on the wood, but as always, Wyatt's patience ran out first. "The lock really isn't going to stop me, you know."

To prove a point, he ignored all rules of privacy and simply orbed to the other side of the door, and gasped. Chris's room was a den of organised chaos. Photos, pages torn from books, newspaper clippings and hand-scrawled notes littered the walls and dangled from strings that divided the room in half. Books clearly stolen from Magic School littered the floor; open on seemingly random and unconnected pages. In the middle of all this stood Chris, looking every bit as if he just wanted to orb away before Wyatt could begin asking questions. "What the hell is all this?"

"Nothing," Chris instantly denied, but seemed to realise that that answer wasn't going to cut it. "Just some research…for a Charge…"

Wyatt crossed his arms disbelievingly. "Oh really? Which one?"

Chris's eyes flickered to one side as if he was trying to recall some long-forgotten memory. When he answered, he hadn't quite hidden the uncertainty in his voice. "Sophie…?"

"The eight-year-old daughter of Anna, your _actual_ Charge?" Wyatt retorted sarcastically, making Chris flinch. Something was beyond wrong, how could their parents have just accepted this as normal? The Charmed Ones had been possessed and imitated so many times that they were usually overly-vigilant for this kind of behaviour – so why weren't they concerned, when they so clearly should be? "Chris, tell me, what the hell is going on with you?"

The dear-in-headlights look Chris was currently giving him would have been hilarious in any other situation. "Nothing…" he tried again, but with even less conviction than before. He looked so tired, and when he looked up the determination that usually lit up his eyes was extinct. "I just… Something… I'll be fine, I just need a little time."

"So you don't want to talk? Fine," Wyatt sighed. He hadn't let it go; he was just going to try a different tack. "Then you're going to help me instead."

Chris looked confused for a moment, and then seemed to figure that this was the better option. "Help you with what?"

"In the past month, eighteen Witches have gone missing," Wyatt explained, immediately all-business. He was the Twice Blessed after all; these kind of things weren't meant to happen on his watch. "And the Magical Community has reported missing faeries, leprechauns, nymphs and a whole load of others over the last half a year. At first I thought that the two were unconnected, but now I'm not so sure."

"You think a demon did all that?" Chris asked, a semblance of his old self coming through. Wyatt resisted the urge to smile at the minute success. "No, it would have to be a faction of them, or maybe someone's trying to organise the Underworld _again. _You would think they'd have given up on that by now."

Wyatt clapped a hand on Chris's shoulder and grinned. "Let's go find out, shall we?"

* * *

**Magic School**

"And that's all for today class," Mrs Demoir shouted above the din of her class desperately packing up their things. "Don't forget! There's a pop quiz on Advanced Potion-making tomorrow! Study up!"

Melinda Halliwell joined the stampede out of the classroom door but then veered away. The vast majority of students boarded at Magic School, but she was one of the few who didn't. On her way to the door that would send her back home (her now-mortal father had led to her being the only one of her siblings unable to orb) she considered the extreme unlikelihood of her revising for the dreaded pop quiz. It was disturbing how like a normal high school the pocket realm was, though to be honest, she only had minimal experience of school in the real world.

As if to encourage her to do the studying her teachers were constantly pushing for, the door home had been placed in the library. It was probably one of her father's more subtle hints that her grades were nowhere near as high as her over-achieving brothers had been at her age, but she wasn't particularly bothered. If she wanted to she could always cheat on the tests anyway, they should have been proud that she was honest enough to admit the limit of her education.

She rolled her eyes with a sigh as she stepped through the door and into the Halliwell Manor. As always, she found herself halfway up the stairs – a strange place for a supposed-to-be-inconspicuous door – and she used the back of her foot to nudge it closed.

Aiming for an after-school snack she went down the steps and into the dining room. And then promptly froze. They had house guests.

A demon of some description made a grab for her, but with a frightened squeal she managed to dance out of his reach. She swung her heavy schoolbag off of her shoulder and into the side of his head and then spun on her heel. Another one came for her but she was just fast enough to avoid his lunge. She made for the stairs and the door back to Magic School as she had always been taught, but she was pulled back with a yank on her bag. "Let me go!"

Instead of pulling away, she purposely threw herself at the offending demon, surprising him enough that her meagre weight was enough to send them both to the ground. She scrabbled back to her feet, stepping on the demon in the process, and ran again for the door. "Wyatt! Chris! Help!"

She made it up a few steps this time before a third demon shimmered into existence and blocked her escape, energy ball in hand. The first two demons had recovered and waited for her at the bottom. Where the hell were her brothers? With a split second decision, she vaulted herself over the banister and made for the front door – exposure would keep them from following, surely? "Wyatt!"

More demons appeared, cutting her off again, and she swerved into the front room. She realised her mistake too late. They blocked both of the doors – short of throwing herself through the window there was just no way out. As the accumulative force of six demons all took menacing steps towards her she found the window option to be more and more appealing. "Chris! Wyatt! Someone!"

* * *

**The Underworld**

Chris ducked an energy ball that was aimed at his head, and then blindly flicked out his hand, sending a telekinetic wave in the general direction of the attack. They had only been down in the Underworld for a few hours before stumbling upon a horde of naberius demons that had taken to using them for target practice. It was safe to say that the investigation wasn't getting very far.

"We should go!" Chris yelled at Wyatt who was taking cover on the other side of tunnel that they had been bottlenecked into. Wyatt seemed to be having too good a time to listen and grinned as he deflected the flock of energy balls back at their creators. "Wy! Come on! We gotta go!"

"What? And leave these guys here to hurt future innocents? No way!" Wyatt replied as he changed tactics and started orbing boulders and rocks into the enemy. It was his duty as the Twice Blessed to not only fight the forces of evil but to keep them from doing evil in the first place. He spent more time in the underworld thinning out the ranks than he did topside protecting Innocents. The Wyatt of the bad timeline had seen more sunlight than this one, but at least he was vanquishing the demons instead of rallying them to his cause.

_Wyatt! Chris! Help!_

Both brothers looked upwards at the panicked call, and then at each other. "Mel!"

"Chris, go!" Wyatt instructed as he stepped out, protected by his force field. "I've got this!"

Chris nodded and vanished in a flurry of blue lights. He reformed at the bottom of the stairs in the manor just as his sister's scream sounded from the front room. He sprinted the short distance and skidded through the archway. He had a millisecond to take in the sight of the six demons surrounding Melinda before he sprang into action. He threw up his arm, slamming the three demons blocking the other half of the front room into the ceiling before letting gravity do the rest. "Mel! Run!"

He officially had the remaining demons' attention as they turned on him, allowing Melinda to scarper through the arch and back around to the stairs. Chris returned their energy balls back to sender, vanquishing two of them in a flare of flames. The one remaining took one look at the piles of soot and made to shimmer out. Chris caught him before he could and sent him flying into the coffee table.

"Chris!"

The first three recovered from his first attack and ran towards the scream. To head them off, Chris backed out of the front room and down the entrance hall parallel to them. He just caught sight of Melinda once again surrounded by more demons that seemed to be crawling out of the woodwork, before he was thrown off of his feet and smashed into the banister. He hit the floor with a pained grunt, but his sister's panicked cry had him standing again before he had even registered his injuries.

Two of the demons had grabbed a hold of Melinda and were about to shimmer out with her but he managed to telekinetically pull them away from her before they got the chance.

There were too many of them, that much was clear. For every one he was able to vanquish two more would show up in its place. And they were pretty adamant that they were going to get Melinda. He sent another telekinetic wave at them, catching a few of them unawares, and shouted for Wyatt. There were times when you just had to admit that your Twice Blessed brother was stronger than you; inferiority complex or no.

Melinda tried to run for the door to Magic School while her attackers were occupied with Chris, but the move was anticipated and she found herself trapped again. "Chris!"

He didn't get the chance to even try and save her this time. He barely registered the fact that he was airborne before suddenly the world went dark.

* * *

**The Halliwell Manor**

Wyatt orbed in a few seconds after the demons had shimmered out with his sister. He appeared by the front door, where he froze for a moment as he took in the carnage around him. The front room was a shelter for broken furniture; flowers escaped their vases and picture frames surrendered to gravity. There didn't seem to be a thing that had escaped unscathed – what the hell had happened?

"Mel? Chris?" he called cautiously to the abnormally silent manor. He took slow, wary steps deeper into the minefield, ready for any nasty surprises. He wasn't ready for what he actually found however. "Chris!"

His younger brother was collapsed on the landing half-way down the stairs, suspiciously still. Wyatt closed the distance between them in a few long strides and came to kneel at his side. A pool of blood had accumulated beneath his head and ran from his ear, and his arm folded under him at an unnatural angle. Immediately, Wyatt set his healing hands aglow and held them over the worst injuries, silently praying that he wasn't too late. "Come on, Chris…"

The severity of the injuries meant that the process took longer than usual, but after a few paranoid minutes, Chris sprang upright, gasping. Disorientated, his eyes roved their surroundings until his memory returned. "They got Mel."

"What? Who got Mel?" Wyatt demanded as he helped drag Chris to his feet.

"I don't know," Chris replied, furrowing his brow as he struggled to remember. Everything had happened so fast. "There were too many of them…I tried…"

"What did they look like?"

Chris shrugged. "Like every other demon that attacks us?" Wyatt gave him his 'not impressed' look. "They used telekinesis and energy balls and shimmered. They might have been generic warlocks but I can't be sure. They only seemed interested in capturing Mel, not killing her, though they didn't seem overly bothered about my wellbeing – you reckon they need a telepath for something?"

"Maybe I'll ask them right before I vanquish their sorry asses," Wyatt retorted angrily and then turned to head upstairs. "Come on, we'll scry for her and hunt down these bastards."

They followed the usual procedure for missing family members; scrying and checking the Book of Shadows. Though it didn't happen as often in this generation, it was still a disturbingly regular occurrence and everyone was well rehearsed in the methods. But the atmosphere in the attic was more tense than usual; it had never been their baby sister before. She had always been protected and sheltered from the demon-hunting side of their magical lives – she had never been a target – so why was she now?

It wasn't long before Chris was slamming the Book closed with an exasperated growl. Considering the size of the tome in this time it should have taken him far longer to peruse its entire contents; but he had studied it enough for two lifetimes now and had practically memorised it. "There's nothing! Well, there are plenty of things they _could_ be – but the damn things are too generic, they could be anything!"

Wyatt studied Chris for a moment before answering. He knew his younger brother was acting out of character and the outburst contrasted greatly with his usually methodical and level-headed, if a little neurotic, nature. For now though, he just put it down to the fact that their baby sister had just been taken, and in Chris's eyes, he had been the one who failed to stop it. "Shouldn't be too difficult to vanquish then. Lots of the same generally mean low-level. We probably won't even need any potions – if I could just _find_ them."

_Chris!_

Even Wyatt heard the urgency of the jingle meant for his Whitelighter brother, and for a moment his scrying hand stilled. "Was that…?"

"Sean." Chris finished. Ever since his change he had been keeping his Charges on mute – he would only hear a call from them in an emergency, and judging by the fear and panic that had laced the psychic cry this certainly counted. But Chris was torn between a Charge he hadn't had the time to re-know and a sister he had just failed to save. Thankfully, Wyatt made the decision for him.

"Go," he nodded, setting the crystal swirling again. "It only takes one of us to scry."

With that Chris disintegrated into a column of blue and white lights to reform again in a very public, yet thankfully deserted, parking lot. The only occupants were a bunch of familiarly generic demons and a petrified Sean.

In both timelines Chris had always been conscious of exposure so he gave the area a cautious scan before jumping forward to help his Charge. With the coast clear he flung out his arm and sent three of the five demons flying into various parked vehicles. At the sound of smashed glass and creaking metal Chris spared a thought to the hopefully insured owners, but was pulled back into the moment just as quickly as his mind had strayed. "Sean! Run!"

The demons still standing conjured twin energy balls that they then threw at Chris, who with barely a flick of his wrist deflected them back. Wyatt had been right about the easy to vanquish part as the demons burst into flames accompanied by their own screams of pain. Sean was on his feet and running towards his Whitelighter at the start of the attack, and was by his side before the flames dissipated. "About time," he muttered irritably, but only to hide his own fear – he never had been one for the demon-hunting. "Can we make with the orbing now?"

"Not yet," Chris snapped back, causing Sean to give him a surprised look. Before Chris had always been for the safety of his Charges first, with the vanquishing coming as a close second – so why was he hanging around and keeping Sean in danger?

The three demons left had recovered and were advancing carefully, energy balls at the ready though they were quite happy with keeping themselves at a relatively safe distance, waiting for a better chance to strike. But Chris didn't wait for them to make the first move. He caught sight of some shrapnel from the earlier collisions with the stationary cars – nothing identifiable beyond being sharp and pointy, and smirked.

Without warning he was orbed on the opposite side of the lot, the demons between him and Sean, and telekinetically shooting the shrapnel pieces into the backs of two of them. The one remaining in the middle took one look at his flaming brethren and did the smart thing. His form had just begun to dissolve into a shimmer when Chris stretched out an arm and mentally held the demon in place.

"Hey!" Sean shouted indignantly. "Why aren't you vanquishing?"

Chris studied the demon. Despite its generic-ness he recognised him from the Manor less than an hour ago. "Because, he knows where my sister is."

* * *

"No, that really wasn't what I ordered, Jake," Piper Halliwell huffed into her cell phone that was tucked between her shoulder and ear, leaving her hands free to manhandle the array of shopping bags through the front door. "No, no. I wanted 300litres of fresh cream, not two gallon of skimmed milk – how could you even get that wr-" She caught sight of the disaster zone that was her home. "I have to go."

She dropped the bags on the table in the entrance hall and shut the front door as she cut off the call with a short beep. As she took in the mess around her; a mess that from experience can _only_ be caused by a demon attack, her thoughts and fears went straight to her only child that still lived at home. "Mel! Melinda!"

The carnage had found its way into every room besides the kitchen downstairs, and had taken out part of the staircase as well. Too used to the once regular occurrence to be bothered by the destruction of material things she didn't care about the mess – she was more concerned by her daughter's lack of reply. What the hell had happened?

"Mom!" Chris appeared at the top of the stairs, a guilty and slightly panicked expression on his face. Piper didn't have time to analyse the look and immediately spiralled into questions; though she never paused long enough to get the answers. Maybe because, on a subconscious level at least, she knew that she wouldn't like them when she heard them. "Mel's been taken."

"What?" Piper practically shouted though she knew that she had heard him perfectly well. She was storming up the stairs to meet him in an instant, as if maybe the distance was causing her to mishear him.

Chris relayed the story quickly, all the while avoiding her eyes. "Wyatt hasn't had any luck scrying for her, but we've got a demon in the attic that will be willing to talk," he finished, though he didn't look done. Piper raised her eyebrows as a prompt, and Chris finally met her gaze. "I'm sorry, Mom. I… I should have protected her…"

Piper gave her son a half-smile as she studied his guilt-ridden face. She could so clearly see the two versions of him in his sea-green eyes; the broken yet determined fighter of the bad timeline that was ashamed of his failure and the protective big brother who would do anything for his little sister. She pressed a hand to his cheek "Don't blame yourself, Chris. Blame the demons we're about to vanquish."

Chris smirked at that, and then broke the moment by turning and heading back up to the attic, leaving Piper to follow. He held the door open for her, revealing the demon in the crystal cage, and the very irate Wyatt that was currently threatening him. They both looked up at their arrival, the demon grateful for the brief reprieve, and Wyatt looking just as guilty as Chris had for the whole situation. It seems the entirety of the next generation had inherited the self-blaming gene.

Taking a deep breath to bring her own emotions in check, Piper placed herself in the demon's eye line. It was rare to see a Charmed One these days, and just her presence had the demon cowering.

"You are going to die. That is not debatable or negotiable. What_ is_ optional is the manner in which it happens." It was out of character to see her quite this ruthless; but it was a _demon_ she was threatening, and there were no lines that she would not cross for her family. "So unless you want to draw out your suffering for a _very_ long time, I suggest that you start talking."

Wyatt raised his eyebrows at his mother, and then glanced at the demon that seemed very close to spilling his guts, both figuratively and literally. He didn't know whether to be in awe or disappointed that his status as Twice Blessed hadn't instilled half as much fear as his extremely pissed-off mother. Then again, if the stories were to be believed, Piper was a force to be reckoned with when she was angry.

About half a minute passed before Piper lost her patience. "Fine."

With the flick of her hand, the demon lost an arm in an incredibly well-controlled explosion. He started screaming in pain and writhed on the floor. Opposite each other, Wyatt and Chris shared a look. It was not often that their mother was directly involved in the battle against evil, and sometimes it was easy to forget what she was capable of. Neither were condemning her actions, it was just odd to watch their benevolent mother torture a demon.

"Would you like to take your other arm to Purgatory with you, or should I blow that up as well?"

"Wait! Wait!" the demon hissed, holding up his remaining hand in a defensive gesture. Piper lowered her own, though it was clear she was rather eager to follow through on her threat. "I'm just a hired gun tasked with collecting good witches and creatures…"

"'Collecting'?" Wyatt asked, confused over the choice of words. Surely 'kidnapping', 'capturing' or even 'catching' would have been better terms.

"For the Menagerie."

"No," Chris whispered, barely audible, but both Piper and Wyatt heard and turned to look at him. "That shouldn't exist… that was _his_ collection…" he blinked, and suddenly seemed to realise that he was being stared at. In an attempt to cover his slip up, he continued louder "It's basically a zoo of live trophies for evil's viewing pleasure."

Piper knew that Chris was drawing on memories of the bad timeline, so in order to distract Wyatt she drew on her own anger and fear for her child "A _zoo?_ My daughter is on display in a freaking _zoo?"_

"Where is it?" Chris demanded, glad for the interference, though Wyatt didn't appear to have forgotten. He would probably bring it up later, but for now, Melinda was far more important.

The demon looked to the enraged Piper and wisely decided to keep talking instead of losing more body parts. "In a shielded part of the Underworld, in Glaxon territory. But you won't get in. Not without paying the fee."

"What fee?" Wyatt asked.

The demon sighed nervously, his eyes flickering between his three captors as he tried to come up with a way out. When Piper raised her hands however, he seemed to come to the conclusion that a quick death was his best hope. "Powers."

With barely a movement on his part, Chris telekinetically summoned an atheme from its place in storage. Upon closer inspection, one would see the initials 'WW' on the handle. It was from twenty-three years ago when Phoebe had taken on the powers stored in the blade and used them to vanquish demonic game show hosts and a bunch of their voyeur audience. Only the Chris from the bad timeline knew of its existence and remembered where Paige had put it after she had had to stab her sister to remove the evil powers.

In a split second, the crystal cage lowered and the blade embedded itself in the demons chest.

Once the flames had subsided, an awkward silence enveloped the attic. Wyatt was looking at his brother as if he was seeing a stranger, both fear and shock in his eyes. Piper was wondering how she was going to explain what had just happened to the son she had been protecting from the truth all this time. Chris however, was only concerned about one thing. Saving his sister.

He called the atheme back, and then looked to Wyatt. "Shall we go then?"

* * *

**The Underworld**

There had be no attempt to make her 'enclosure' anything like her natural environment beyond the mural of the Halliwell Manor that served as her display's backdrop. But that was more to show off her heritage and standing as a child of a Charmed One than to make her feel at home.

All around Melinda there were demons, warlocks and other evil creatures, milling about like humans at a museum. Some wandered aimlessly, pausing every now and again at the force field cages to study its occupants, while others went directly to a particular display. Unsurprisingly, hers was proving to be very popular. She may be the youngest of her siblings, and thus the least powerful with no offensive powers, but she was still a Halliwell, so her capture was quite impressive.

The cave itself was classic Underworld, the only odd thing being its unusual size compared to most of the evil lairs she had heard about. She had never been down here before, but she recognised the cavernous structure lit by torchlight from the stories. Sometimes she hated being the overprotected, precious baby girl, but if it kept her from regularly visiting places like this, she supposed that she should really be grateful.

Melinda was pulled from her reverie by the presence of a demon that had pressed itself as close as he dared to the force field and was staring at her like a piece of meat. Feeling relatively safe behind the shield's protection she leaned back in the chair she had been given "What you looking at?"

The demon sneered nastily, his eyes studying her with an odd mixture of hunger and hatred. But then he was promptly shoved aside by another demon that was clearly of a higher level than him. When the new demon looked up at her, Melinda just about stopped herself from cheering.

It wasn't because he had just evicted her creepy admirer; it was because she recognised him, and his friend. The two of them turned to look at her, their hands in their pockets and their demeanour entirely casual. They were glamours that her brothers wore for their Underworld activities. Incredibly powerful glamours that could even mask their powers; making orbing look like shimmering and such. Melinda may never have seen these particular disguises before, but she was a telepath after all. She could see through the best masks.

The taller one, which was definitely Wyatt, despite his dark hair and grey eyes, scanned the room warily, and then glanced at Chris. "We are severely outnumbered."

Chris looked to Melinda, careful not to alert nearby viewers of their familiarity "Does this place close?" She shook her head, making Chris sigh. He then studied the layout of the room and turned to Wyatt. "If we found a way to drop all the force fields it would provide enough of a distraction for us to get Mel out."

Wyatt immediately shook his head, looking stunned that Chris would even suggest that "No way, too many innocents would get hurt."

"Okay," Chris shrugged. "Civil War, then?"

That made Wyatt grin, Chris's previous suggestion at least temporarily forgotten. They then split up and made their way to opposite sides of the cavern, both selecting a large concentration of the demonic public. It was ridiculously easy to start a brawl in the Underworld; demons were simply predisposed to infighting and seemed to relish the slightest opportunity to thin out their own numbers. All Chris did was telekinetically trip one demon into colliding with another, and the chain reaction was started.

The klutz staggered into the demon who then made it eat a fireball; the subsequent vanquish accidently knocking a nearby Warlock's drink who then retaliated with an energy ball which knocked the demon into a Darklighter who then summoned his crossbow and missed the demon but took out the Warlock whose death disturbed the viewing pleasure of a nearby Fury who then leapt into the fray and began clawing the nearest demon who blindly threw an energy ball that-

"Woah!" Chris ducked just in time to avoid the flying ball of death which took out the Warlock that had had the misfortune of standing behind him. His colleague, clearly peeved that Chris didn't take the energy ball that was meant for him, threw a fireball that Chris barely dodged by orbing out (though it appeared as if he had shimmered) and rematerializing behind him. The fireball hit the Darklighter, and so the fight continued.

Wyatt and Chris managed their brawls, barely having to do any of the fighting themselves, all the while backing up towards Melinda's cell. Once the numbers had thinned through both the battle and the retreating of others, the two brothers shared a look. Without any verbal communication they simultaneously dropped their glamours and launched into the fight as Halliwells, taking vengeance for their sister's mistreatment. They had to send a message that Melinda was never to be touched after all.

The atmosphere in the cavern went from anger to fear as the remaining demons recognised the Twice Blessed. A good few were stupid enough to stay and try their luck, but most took one look at the mass of vanquished demons in Wyatt's wake, and thought better of it.

Chris may not have been the dreaded Twice Blessed, but he had the memories of a timeline where battles like this took place on a frighteningly regular basis. He was taking out just as many demons as his brother, and was soon having them shimmer out rather than face him.

The last demons standing were quick to realise that they didn't stand a chance, and soon only good was left to occupy the Menagerie. Cheers erupted from several enclosures, and Wyatt grinned at his brother. Chris may have been acting weird recently, but it was clear that he had kept his demon-hunting priorities straight. Not that he was going to let the issue drop, not after all the strange hints he had been getting all day.

"So…" Chris gestured around them "How do we get them out…?"

* * *

**The Halliwell Manor**

Piper wouldn't stop hugging her daughter, to the point where Melinda was pretty sure that she had saved only to be smothered to death. She was still shaky after her ordeal and she was glad for her mother's love, but there _was_ a limit. "Mom…can't breathe!"

Finally, Melinda was released and she took several deep, gasping breaths for dramatic effect and then beamed happily. She was home and she was safe. Piper kept her arms around her, though the death grip was loosened. They sat side-by-side on the couch in the front room, after some magical assistance with the clearing up, with Wyatt sitting opposite them. Chris hadn't orbed home with them, obviously wanting to avoid having to talk to his brother for as long as possible.

"You know, don't you," Wyatt said quietly, unintentionally wiping the smiles of their faces. They looked at him with unreadable expressions. "You know what's wrong with Chris."

Piper shook her head while Melinda remained carefully quiet. "There is nothing wrong with your brother, Wy."

"How can you say that?" Wyatt demanded, pushing himself to his feet. "Are you blind or in denial? Something is seriously wrong and you damn well know it – why won't anyone tell me? Did I do something?"

Piper flinched at that last question, confusing Wyatt even more. What had he done that was so bad that his entirely family would lie to him? Surely he would remember doing something that momentous. "No, Wyatt," she said firmly, meeting his eyes. "I am not in denial. I am being understanding. Chris has… Chris has been through a lot recently, so I am giving him some space. You should too."

Wyatt really didn't understand. Nothing had happened to Chris as far as he knew. But then again, that was probably all part of the big secret that he wasn't a part of. It was so frustrating to be kept out of the loop, especially when he could see that something was wrong with his little brother. And besides, what could Chris have been through that explained his behaviour?

"How did he _know_?" Wyatt wouldn't let it drop, and Piper sighed heavily. "How did he know about the Menagerie; about the atheme in storage? Why has he been letting his responsibilities slide? The decisions he's made, Christ, Mom! The way he _fought_ – it was like he was a different person! How can you claim that _any_ of that is normal?"

"Wy," Melinda murmured as she got to her feet as well. "For your own sake, _please_ let this go."

Wyatt studied his little sister as she looked up at him with her dark brown eyes, basically begging him not to care. Piper was pleading with the same eyes; not with worry for Chris, but with sympathy for Wyatt. And that was the clincher. Something must have happened, and he was the cause – that was the only explanation. There wasn't a chance in hell that he was ever going to let that go.

"I'm sorry," Wyatt began to orb, his next words emanating from the empty space he had just occupied. "But I can't."

* * *

**Chris's Apartment**

After the battle in the Menagerie, Chris felt completely drained. He orbed back to his apartment, avoiding the Manor completely, and collapsed onto his bed. In the bad timeline he had been used to fights like that, hell, that one had been pathetic in comparison to some of the attacks he had survived. But he had to remember, his body was from the good timeline, and it was gravely apparent that it had never had such a rigorous workout.

He would have to fix that. If he had to spend a year (or technically, less than a year now) in this new Chris, then he would have to get himself into the shape he was used to. He may not have had a purpose anymore, no mission to drive him, no world resting on his shoulders, but he still had a family to protect and a future to preserve. He had always been a goal-orientated person – the lack of a target was driving him mad.

Even more so than the confusion of memories in his head. You would have thought that two weeks of doing nothing but thinking would finally get his two sides in order, but you'd be wrong. That's what the mass of papers and string that littered his room was about.

There were two main strings, colour coded for convenience, that ran from one wall to the opposite. The red string represented the bad timeline, and the blue string the good one. Starting from the Titan attack all the way back in 2002, he had mapped every key event in both timelines; the occasional string connecting both where inevitable things had occurred.

_And speaking about inevitable _Chris thought to himself as he dragged himself onto his feet. He collected up his notebook and scrawled the date and 'The Menagerie' on the page. He then tore it off and pinned it onto the blue string.

Then he tied another piece of string to the note and unravelled a length about a metre or so long. With a pained sigh, he found the corresponding paper from the bad timeline, and tied the other end of the string. 'August 2024 – Prue taken as part of the Menagerie'

He had never been able to save his cousin. None of the Resistance had ever been able to find the Menagerie – Wyatt kept it too well protected. Even now, even though he _knew_ that it hadn't happened in this timeline, Chris still felt weighed down by the guilt and the loss. When he had found out that Melinda had been taken he had been beyond determined that he would save her. In fact, he had been reckless, practically revealing the truth to his brother, or at the very least making Wyatt curious enough to start searching on his own. Chris knew that it was going to come back to haunt him, but he hadn't cared.

The past could not repeat itself.


	3. Nothing to Fear

**Charmed -:- Borrowed Time**

**Episode Summary:**

Piper just wants everything to be normal and cajoles Chris into resuming his duties of the changed timeline, however Wyatt isnt ready to let go of he secret that everyone is keeping from him. As it becomes clear that no one is willing to clue him in, he turns to some rather unorthodox methods of finding the truth... with terrible consequences...

**Author's Note(s):**

Sorry this took so long! This chapter refused to be written – my muse kept escaping :P

Anyways; time for the thank yous! To Anonymous, as I must call you, thanks for the compliment and double thanks for the double review! Methinks people should hit the wrong button more often :P And to lizardmomma and c im am a dragon, glad you're liking and thanks for coming back!

Now to ignore me, and get back to the story…

* * *

**Three -:- Nothing to Fear**

**P3**

It had been two months since the change, and in a way, things were beginning to settle down. In Chris's head the two sets of memories still fought for precedence, but _most _of the time he could differentiate the timelines and call on the right 'Chris' for a given occasion. Hence why he had finally ventured outside of his apartment and had begun the task of picking up his life where he had left off.

That wasn't entirely _his_ choice however. Wyatt was like a dog with a bone with the whole weird Chris situation, and even after a month and a half of nothing major happening he was still digging. Worried, Piper had pressed Chris into resuming his job at P3 to try and regain some semblance of the normalcy from before. It didn't appear to be working as she had hoped, but at the very least it was giving Chris something to do.

He only had ten months left. He couldn't spend it trapped in his room.

There was no band to set up for the evening; it was a Tuesday after all, so Chris had been left alone to handle the basic tasks of prepping the bar and setting out the tables. The monotony and routine were soothing and he lost himself in the silence of the club. It was so weird to not have to _worry_. No pressure, no expectations – just a date in the near future that in a weird way, he was kinda looking forward to rather than fearing. _And that just _proves_ how screwed up I am._

His self-deprecation was interrupted by the appearance of orbs that dissolved into the form of his rather determined-looking big brother. "Hey, Wy," Chris greeted before the glow had completely dissipated, then gestured at the club. "You come to help?"

"No," Wyatt said firmly and irritably. "You know exactly why I'm here. I'm giving you one last chance to just _tell me_ what the hell is going on with you."

Chris shrugged. "I'm doing my job…?"

"Don't play games," Wyatt snapped. Ever since the Menagerie he had been tense and very un-Wyatt like. He was constantly, and increasingly, on edge, which Chris knew from experience was dangerous. But he had promised their mother that he wouldn't tell; and if there was one thing Chris was good at, it was lying. "Please, _please_ just tell me. You know that I'm going to find out eventually anyway – what's the point of driving me insane with all these secrets?"

"There are no secrets, Wy," Chris lied with conviction, meeting his brother's gaze and holding it. "I…I just went through a phase, that's all. It's over now, it's no big deal."

Wyatt raised his eyebrows practically to his hairline in disbelief. "No. Big. Deal? Really? Chris, you had me practically convinced that you weren't _really_ you! You know things that you _can't _know, do things that you would _never_ do; look at people you have known your whole life as if _you have never met._ There is no 'phase' that could do all that. Something is going on. Something happened. Regardless of whether you tell me or not, I am _going _to find out."

Chris watched his brother for a moment in total silence. He couldn't help it. The anger and frustration in Wyatt's voice had brought back memories he thought he had under control. He saw a long-haired, black-clothed version of him yelling at Chris because he didn't understand why they could not rule together – _why do we have to be enemies? You are my brother Chris – why can't you understand? Why are you afraid of me…?_

"You're scared of me."

Chris flinched at that, the involuntary movement accidently confirming his brother's claim. He shook his head, but couldn't find the words to deny it. It was the truth after all; he was scared of _a _Wyatt. Petrified even. He couldn't sleep without his evil overlord of a brother reminding him of the future that he had barely saved. Even now when he saw everything that he had achieved, the memories still haunted him.

"Why are you afraid of me?" Wyatt unintentionally echoed. "After everything we've been through together… what could I have done to make you like this? Why won't you tell me?" They stared at each other for an uncannily long moment. Chris vaguely felt something probing at the edges of his mind and knew that Wyatt was trying to use the weird brotherly connection that he had long ago blocked up. Having failed to reach him, Wyatt muttered "There were never any secrets between us. If you were really my brother, you wouldn't lie to me."

The truth was on the tip of Chris's tongue, ready and waiting to put an end to the whole ordeal, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't let Piper down, he couldn't pile the guilt on his brother for something he hadn't technically done, he couldn't vocalise the lifetime of betrayal that had moulded him. So once again, he lied. "There's nothing to tell."

Wyatt closed his eyes, and when he opened them again they revealed his pain and hurt. "Fine, have it your way."

And with that he was gone the way he came.

"Damnnit!" Chris yelled, taking out his frustration on the bar he stood behind. He accidently sent a tray of glasses smashing to the floor, his powers slipping from his control for a millisecond. The mishap had him cursing again, more colourfully than before, and he vaulted himself over the counter to clear up the mess.

"I could take that out of your wages you know," Piper said in a light voice, though her expression was sombre and worried. Chris looked up to find her standing at the top of the steps by the main entrance, her tense stance telling him that she had been there long enough to hear the exchange.

"He's right you know," he decisively ignored Piper's comment as he stood up with the remnants of the glasses. "He's going to find out, and when he does…"

Piper descended the staircase and came over to join him. "We're doing this to protect him, he'll understand."

"Mom! He's twenty-five years old! He doesn't need protecting, he needs the truth!" Chris almost shouted, sounding just like the future Whitelighter irritated with his Charmed Charges that once again weren't listening to him. The lines may have blurred between 'Piper' and 'Mom', but that didn't mean he didn't sometimes forget that he wasn't Chris Perry anymore. It was easier to yell at a stubborn Piper than it was to berate his loving Mom, regardless of the fact that they were one and the same.

"You sure changed your tune," Piper replied, surprisingly not angry at his outburst. "When you came to the past I lost track of how many lies you told to protect us. Why are you so against keeping Wyatt from a painful truth?"

Chris averted his eyes, depositing the glass shards in the trash for something to do. "That was different…" he said lamely, knowing that it wasn't. If they were honest, it wasn't Wyatt that they were truly protecting, it was themselves. Telling the truth would make it real, and it was so much easier to just pretend that it wasn't. Wyatt wasn't evil. There had been no battle to keep him on the right path. His brother hadn't sacrificed everything to keep him safe. "It may be harder for us to tell him, but it will be easier for him to hear."

It was Piper's turn to look away, ever stubborn and permanently in denial. "No, we just have to get things back to normal, make it as if none of this ever happened. Then he'll let it go."

She met his eyes then, silently begging him not to talk. She had spent twenty-three years protecting this secret; she didn't want to give up now. Chris sighed heavily. He wanted to argue some more, make her see sense, but as always, he could never deny Piper. "And how do you suppose we do that?"

"We step up the timetable," She replied, injecting false cheer into her tone, glad of the change of topic. "It's time for you to go back to work."

Chris raised his eyebrows and gestured around him. "I _am_ at work."

"No, sweetie, your real work," she reached across the bar and took his hands. "Take your Charges off mute – become a Whitelighter again." Chris gave her an incredibly reluctant look. He didn't think he was anywhere near ready for that. Piper smiled reassuringly. "It's your calling to help people, Chris. There is no one as selfless as you. Once you realise that and start doing what you do best again, you'll be back to your normal self."

_As opposed to this weird freak schizophrenic who took over your son?_ Chris inwardly retorted, reading between the lines that to be honest, probably weren't even there. He hadn't asked to interfere with the good timeline, but ever since he had woken up in the sunroom as the 'new' Chris Halliwell, he knew that he had done nothing but disturb the peace. _I guess that's what happens when you're not technically _meant_ to exist._

Instead of voicing his inner fears though, he just gave another exasperated sigh. "Fine," he agreed, then cocked his head to one side. "It's done, they are officially off mute."

Piper grinned, and then pulled herself onto one of the bar stools as Chris continued prepping for when P3 opened that evening. They fell into silence for a good five minutes, the only sounds being the chinking of glasses and the scrape of chairs on the floor. "Are you actually going to sit there until I get a call?"

"Well, I have to make sure you go, don't I?" she replied with a smile. Chris rolled his eyes, and then glared at the ceiling in irritation. Piper recognised the look from her years of watching Leo hear the jingles of his Charges and the Elders. "Who was it?"

It took Chris a moment to recognise the voice. "Anna."

"Perfect," Piper beamed, hopping down from her stool and coming to stand by his side. She gave his arm a pat. "You should go."

Chris gave her a suspicious look. She was way too chipper given their previous conversation and her expression was telling him that she knew more than she was letting on. She couldn't have planned this, could she? How would she know what Charge would call first, and when? He shook the thoughts away, and then orbed.

Piper was still smiling.

* * *

**The Underworld**

It was a desperate decision, and Wyatt knew it.

That's why he had gone to Chris first, to give him one last chance to just tell him the truth. He had given them so many chances; asked them _so many_ times. But still they refused to tell him. So when the people who knew up top didn't want to talk, it was time to ask the demons down below. Even if he knew that this was doomed to end badly – he didn't have a choice.

"You could just let it go…" the Demon of Fear said teasingly, reading his thoughts. "But then again, you _are_ a Halliwell… I don't think any of you know _how_ to give up."

Wyatt glared at the black-clothed, grey-haired demon that never seemed to age. Every instinct screamed at him that going to Barbas was a _really bad idea_, but after shaking down practically every demon in the Underworld, this was where the trail had led. Somehow, Barbas knew the truth, and Wyatt wasn't going to leave until he knew it too. "Are you going to talk? Or is some persuasion needed?"

Barbas spread his arms in a placating gesture, though the way he licked his teeth and watched Wyatt through hungry eyes told a very different story. "Let's just take our time… no need to hurry… or are you afraid of me, Little Wyatt?" Barbas was grinning from ear to ear, loving the entire situation. "That's a good thing, I suppose… what kind of demon of fear can't scare one little witch…? Even one as powerful as you?"

"What do you know about Chris?" Wyatt tried to steer the conversation.

"Which one?" Barbas replied cryptically. "The Whitelighter from the future come back to save his wayward brother…? Or the second-rate Twice Blessed living in your shadow…?

"What?" Wyatt asked, confused. _What the hell is he talking about?_

"Uh-uh," Barbas wagged a finger as if he were berating a small child. "That is all you get for free. Just a…_taste_…of all that I know about your precious baby brother. If you want more… you're going to have to deal for it…"

Wyatt smirked confidently, though he doubted he was fooling either of them. "Or I could just vanquish you."

"And lose the closest thing to the truth that you have been able to find…?" Barbas called him on the empty threat, and Wyatt knew that he had just stepped into dangerous territory. He had known what to ultimately expect the moment he had entered the lair; but that didn't mean that he was comfortable with it. "No, it seems to me that you have been backed into something of a corner… you won't vanquish me until you have your answer… and I won't tell you until you have given me something for my… services. So… what's it going to be…?"

It was a desperate decision. He _had_ to know.

"What do you want?" Wyatt relented, regretting the words the moment they passed his lips. _This can only end badly. _But he had made his choice. Well, his family had made the choice for him.

Barbas smiled, his tongue flicking between his teeth as if he were tasting the air. "Excellent. So good to be working with you. Now all I want is for you to take care of one little witch…"

Wyatt balked at that. No matter how desperate he was he would never hurt an Innocent. Before he could voice that however, Barbas was already waving his hands in a calming manner as if pacifying a wild animal.

"No, no. Not to worry Mr Paragon of All Good," Barbas said with more than a hint of mocking in his tone. "This particular witch is not one of yours… She's a pesky little assassin that some irritated Warlock hired to try and take out little old me…" as if he were the innocent one. "She's a Phoenix, ever heard of them…? Wyatt shook his head. "Well, they're relentless, let me tell you. Never stop until they get their bounty, unless of course… they are stopped _first_…"

"So I vanquish this one witch, and you tell me everything I want to know?" Wyatt questioned, suspiciously. He had been expecting a steeper price than that.

"Kill the witch, and you'll find out even more." Barbas promised.

* * *

**Newport, California **

Chris rematerialized inside the small condo a few miles inland from the coast. It was a modern, white-walled and incredibly neutral space, that contrasted greatly with the odd accumulation of clutter and antiques that filled it. He scanned the room, trying to remember everything he knew about this particular Charge, but as he had feared, his mind was remaining stubbornly blank. He knew he wasn't ready.

He was seconds away from just orbing out when a pretty, tall blonde came out of the kitchen with a basket of laundry balanced on her hip. She looked to be in her mid-to-late twenties and was wearing an incredibly tight outfit, just to make the fact that she was doing chores look really odd. She grinned when she saw him "Oh thank God! You haven't answered my calls for weeks so I wasn't sure if you would come but I thought I would get ready anyway just in case and here you are!"

Chris didn't have a reply to that; in fact, he had no idea what was going on.

Anna didn't seem to notice his dumbfounded expression as she put the laundry basket away and grabbed her purse from the table by the door. "Sophie!" she called as she slipped into a pair of incredibly high heels. "Chris is here to look after you! You be good now!"

"What?" Chris found his voice, making Anna look up at him in surprise. "You called me to babysit? I'm your Whitelighter not some magical daycare service!"

"Well I can't very well call a human babysitter can I?" Anna retorted, her hand on the door as if to make a rapid exit. Sophie took that opportunity to come out of her room, and suddenly the memories came flooding back. Anna was a firestarter, and had passed her ability onto her eight-year-old daughter who hadn't learnt a great deal of control yet. An accident in front of a human would mean exposure; hence why his Whitelighter duty had extended to babysitting, literally. Anna studied him with concern "Are you alright, Chris?"

"Err, yeah, sorry," Chris muttered, realising that he was being out of character, _again_. "What time will you be back?"

Anna didn't look convinced, but as what always seemed to be the way for witches, the call of a normal life trumped her concern. She gave Sophie a hug, planting a lipstick-kiss on her cheek that was promptly rubbed off. "I should be back by midnight, but you know how these things get. Sophie needs to be in bed by eight, she's got school tomorrow."

Sophie groaned at the unfairness of such an early bedtime, but Anna just smiled, gave Chris one last appraising look, and left. The little girl looked up at the tall guardian angel and grinned in that calculating way only a small child can. "Soooo…Chris. What do you wanna play?"

Chris glanced down at Sophie with her blonde pigtails and teddy-bear tucked under her arm, and knew he was out of his depth. _Really? I do this on a regular basis? I don't know a damned thing about kids – in the future 'childhood' never really existed anyway_… He stopped his thoughts right there. He was thinking like the wrong Chris, and if he kept going he would never survive an evening of babysitting. He thought back to Piper and her eagerness for him to take this task, and realised exactly what she wanted. She wanted him to think like _her_ Chris again. She wanted her untainted son back, and forcing him into doing this was the perfect way to do it. He had just been played.

"Fine, I'll pick," Sophie decided, quickly bored of his contemplative silence. "Let's play…"

"Actually," Chris interrupted and came to kneel before her. "I was thinking that we could go and help my mom."

Sophie pursed her lips as she considered his offer. "Would we get to orb?"

"Absolutely," Chris nodded, and offered a hand which Sophie gladly took. That was the best thing about having a Whitelighter for a babysitter – you could go anywhere in a flurry of blue lights without any of that boring driving stuff. Chris stood up and the three of them; him, Sophie and Puggles the bear, disappeared from Newport and reappeared in San Francisco.

The manor was quiet, as it usually was these days. The Charmed Ones had retired five years ago, and gone their separate ways long before that, leaving the manor even less of a target without the Nexus as a lure. And the fact that an attack on the family home was likely to bring the Twice Blessed right to you with a vanquishing potion all served to dissuade the demonic population from visiting.

Sophie didn't wait for permission before she scarpered off in the direction of the kitchen that smelled invitingly of Piper's cooking. Chris followed at a slower pace, stopping to lean on the doorframe as he observed the scene. Sophie hopped up onto the stool beside the counter, grabbing the spoon without invitation to stir the delicious goodness that was brewing. Piper smiled down at the girl, not at all surprised by her sudden presence.

"You knew this was gonna happen, didn't you?" Chris accused lightly, waving at Sophie in reference to his nannying duties. Piper glanced up at him, eyes full of mock innocence. "How?"

"Anna rang here this morning asking if I could maybe persuade you to help her out," Piper explained, dropping the act. She shrugged in an 'and I totally succeeded' gesture. She then took the spoon from Sophie and lifted the steaming contents to her lips for a taste. "Perfect, all done. And just in time too, I've got to be at the restaurant in half an hour."

"Wait, you're leaving me?" Chris's eyes widened in panic – much to his mother's amusement.

"You've done this plenty of times Chris," Piper replied in what he assumed was meant to be a reassuring manner. He didn't feel reassured. She started clearing away, pretending not to notice when Sophie took a taste of the soup as well. "Just keep her happy and entertained and err… don't make her angry. Things tend to _catch fire_ when she's upset."

Chris rolled his eyes "Great."

"It will be a piece of cake," Piper smiled, and then proceeded to make her escape. "Your sister has a detention so she won't be home for another hour and your father is staying late tonight to help grade papers or something. I'll be back around seven – try to keep the house in one piece?"

He watched her go, wondering how he was going to survive the next few hours of his life. Sophie climbed down from her stool and came to stand next to him.

"Sooo… what we gonna do now, Chris?"

* * *

**Halliwell Manor**

Wyatt orbed straight into the attic, materialising before the Book of Shadows. He had cast out his senses beforehand to make sure that he was alone; he didn't want anyone to know, and he always had been a terrible liar. A confrontation would result in him spilling his guts, and he wouldn't, _couldn't,_ do that until he knew the whole truth that they were all so adept at keeping from him.

He had the book open and was flipping through the pages like a man possessed within seconds, muttering what he was searching for repetitively under his breath. Despite the book's size he found the entry quickly, and was surprised to find quite a lot of information on something that he had never heard of before. He skim-read the passage, noting down the vanquishing potion and making a quick doodle of the birthmark that would identify the Phoenix.

"Wyatt?"

Startled by the sudden sound, he glanced up with a guilty expression, his hand stuck in the proverbial cookie jar. But the voice belonged to a small eight-year-old girl who was watching him with innocent eyes.

"Sophie? Where did you go?" Chris's voice trailed up the stairs, sounding slightly flustered for losing his young Charge so quickly. Panicked, Wyatt placed a finger to his lips, the universal symbol for silence, and then disappeared. "Sophie?" Chris repeated as he entered, and then let out a sigh of relief. "There you are. Don't run off like that, ok?" He noticed her odd expression "What is it?"

Sophie just shook her head and scarpered out the door, making Chris furrow his brow in confusion. He made to follow her, but then caught sight of the open Book of Shadows. Curiosity got the better of him as he wandered over to the stand instead of chasing her down. He almost wished he hadn't when he saw the page and felt his heart wrench. Immediately memories and feelings for Bianca flooded through him, weighing him down like lead.

By saving everyone else, he had lost his true love.

He had to accept that and move on. In this timeline they had never been forced together by evil Wyatt's regime. He had never asked her to marry him – they had never even met. Even the engagement ring he had always kept with him had been stolen away. It was unfair, but really – what wasn't unfair about his whole life?

It took him a while longer than usual, but after a few minutes, Chris had pushed back the tidal wave of emotion and locked it soundly behind a mental barrier. He managed a small smile, and then resumed his life in this new timeline.

Wyatt, meanwhile, had orbed back to his apartment, stolen information in hand. He lived alone in a tiny one-bed flat on the outskirts of town, and as such had been free to fill the space with all the demon-hunting equipment that he would ever need. It was a mess, his mother's neat freak influence having long ago eroded away, but in his mind it was organised chaos. He knew where everything was despite the clutter, and he quickly gathered the ingredients for the vanquishing potion.

Alone in the silence, it was hard for him to ignore the doubts that niggled at the corners of his mind. A deal with a demon always demanded a higher price than the haggler was willing to pay – so why had Barbas only asked for a simple vanquish in exchange? There had to be more to it, but Wyatt just couldn't see it yet. Until he did, he guessed that he just had to play along. This was the closest he had been to answers in such a long time; by this point he was more than just desperate. And like they say – beggars can't be choosers.

Distracted, he paid little attention to the potion he was brewing. Until it blew up in his face.

"Woah!" he coughed, waving away the smoke to see the bubbling purple liquid in the cauldron. "I reckon that's about done."

Barbas had been generous enough to provide Wyatt with a ring that he had apparently stolen from the Phoenix in one of their altercations, which was personal enough to scry for the assassin. That in itself occurred to him as being strange. Assassins were meant to be a cold, closed off breed; how could a Phoenix even own anything personal?

He pondered the question no further as the crystal hit the map with a jarring thud. Location in mind and vial in hand, he orbed.

* * *

**Magic School**

It was one thing to be called into the headmaster's office. It was another when the headmaster happened to be your father.

Melinda squirmed under Leo's assessing gaze, just waiting for the repeat of the same lecture he always gave her when she had fallen short of his expectations. He sighed, as if he were just as tired as she was to be here again. "I am not comparing you to your brothers," he began, and Melinda rolled her eyes in disbelief. "I'm not. You are an intelligent young woman now, and I know you could be achieving so much. So tell me, why are your grades telling a different story?"

"My grades are telling the truth!" she retorted hotly, just about resisting the urge to stamp her feet like a tantruming child. "You think that just because Wy and Chris were such freaking overachievers I should be as well but every single test and grade and teacher has told you that I'm not! I'm doing my damned best – sorry if that's not good enough for you!"

"Melinda," Leo tried to sound reasonable "That's not what I think…"

"It's not?" she cut him off. "I'm a telepath dad! I know _exactly _what you're_ thinking._ You've been thinking it my whole life! You tell yourself it's a phase, that one day I'll be just like your perfect sons. That eventually you will finally get through to me and my non-existent potential will suddenly reveal itself! Well, guess what? It's never gonna happen!"

Leo was silenced by her outburst, his mouth working comically like a fish out of water. If she hadn't have been so angry by the whole situation, she would have laughed out loud at the uncharacteristic expression. Instead she focused on controlling her breathing. It would not do for her to lose control of her powers right then; even she didn't know all that she was capable of.

After a minute or so that stretched uncomfortably, Leo managed to find his voice. "You are eighteen years old, and five months away from the real world," he stuck with discussing business to avoid dealing with the mass of thoughts that Melinda could hear in his mind. She slouched back in her chair with a huff – what was it with Halliwell men and running away? "As its stands right now, however, you won't be graduating with the rest of the senior class."

"What?" Melinda suddenly sat up bolt upright – her grades weren't that bad, surely? Okay, so her last round of exams hadn't exactly gone well, but she hadn't failed…had she?

"If you want to leave here with a high school diploma, you're going to have to improve your grades, and fast." Leo started rifling through his desk, pulling out several sheets of paper. "I've made some arrangements with your teachers for you to earn extra credit in your failing subjects…"

Melinda didn't wait for him to finish. With a growl of frustration she pushed herself to her feet and fled the office, purposely slamming the door behind her. She stormed through the halls of Magic School, oblivious to everything but her own fury. She wasn't entirely sure who she was angry at – Leo for his expectations, or herself for failing them.

Why was she so different from her brothers? Where they were smart and strong she was stupid and weak. Why was she cursed with a pathetic power that only let her know what the people she loved really thought of her? Why did she have to know her father's disappointment when others could just believe the honeyed words that belied their true opinions? It wasn't fair!

She was home and running up to her room in tears before she was even aware of reaching the door between the realms. She threw herself onto her bed and curled up in a protective ball, trying to shut out the world.

"Mel?" Chris's muffled voice sounded through the wood, followed by a soft knock. "Mel, are you alright?"

"Go away! Leave me alone!" she yelled, but really should have known that her objections would only serve as an invitation. She heard the door open with a click, then felt the mattress shift as Chris came and sat on the edge of the bed. She turned her head slightly to glare at him through red-rimmed eyes. "What part of 'leave me alone' didn't you get?"

"I thought it was reverse psychology," Chris quipped with a half-smile. Melinda wanted to keep being snippy with him, but she couldn't deny that she felt better when he was there. Instead she dragged herself upright to sit beside him. "So… you want to tell me what happened?"

"Dad happened," she replied shortly, and he gave her a 'tell me about it' look. She was about to snap at him – what did perfect Chris who could do no wrong know about Leo's judgments? But then she remembered what little she knew of the bad timeline where he had been nothing compared to Wyatt in Leo's eyes. Some things would never change, no matter how much time travelling you do. "He's not gonna let me graduate at the end of the year."

Chris wrapped an arm around her shoulders "That's months away yet. Plenty of time to improve your grades. I'll even tutor you if you want."

"Wow, Whitelighter, Witch, bartender, babysitter _and_ a tutor? Is there anything you can't do?" Melinda said bitterly. She couldn't help it, she was a little jealous of her brother. She shouldn't be, she knew at least a little of what he had been through and that he had earned all the respect he deserved, but that didn't mean that she didn't wish their dad would look at her with the same pride with which he showered his sons. "I don't want to be a disappointment."

"You're not," Chris leaned forward slightly so that he could meet her eyes. "And the sooner you realise that to sooner you can show dad who you really are."

"And who's that?"

He grinned. "My neurotic little sister."

She lightly smacked his arm, unable to stop the smile from springing up on her face. "Really? I'm the neurotic one? You been in your head lately?"

* * *

**The Underworld**

"It's done."

"My, my… you are efficient, aren't you?" Barbas drawled, turning to face the newly materialised Wyatt. The Witchlighter didn't look impressed by the compliment, his impatience and distaste clear on his young face. Not all that different from the power-hungry overlord of a timeline changed. "Didn't have too much trouble with her then?"

"I held up my end of the deal, the Phoenix is dead," Wyatt ignored the question completely. "Now it's time for you to start talking, and quickly."

Barbas' face twisted into his signature smile, his arms spread wide. "Now, did I say that _I _would be the one to tell you the elusive truth…? I think not…" Wyatt stepped forward in barely contained anger, but Barbas merely shrugged. "Oh no… I just promised that you would _find out_…"

At the end of his tether, Wyatt lashed out blindly, sending rocks and boulders flying around the cavern. The cacophony of crashes and thuds drowned out his raging shouts, his notoriously short patience long ago worn out. No matter where he went, who he asked or what he did, he never got any closer to the truth. The secret was killing him, cutting him off from the family that meant everything to him and pushing him to carrying out demonic dirty work – what the hell was so damned important?

"Woah, woah there!" Barbas held his hands up in defence, startled by the sudden outburst, but nonetheless determined to follow through with his little game. "Can't you let a guy finish…?"

There came a respite in the onslaught of flying objects, though the look on Wyatt's face promised a quick recommencement if Barbas' words were unsatisfactory.

"Thank you," the Demon of Fear sighed as if dealing with a small child. "_As I was saying_… I promised you that you would find out, _imminently_. All you need to do is call little Chris down here and you will finally have your answers…"

Wyatt eyed him suspiciously. "Why?"

"Why?" Barbas repeated incredulously. "Well, so he can tell you of course! Who better to tell you the truth than the one who is the source of the big secret? To hear it from the horse's mouth… so to speak."

The decision was made even as the doubts tried to convince him otherwise. It was clear that Barbas had been after this from the beginning, but Wyatt couldn't figure out why he would want the two most powerful witches assembled in his lair – surely that was suicide? There was an agenda, and he knew he was playing right into it, but he was so close that he couldn't turn back now. There was no need to shout, he just said the psychic call "Chris."

The response wasn't immediate, and Wyatt felt the tension stretch as a minute or so passed before the familiar blue glow filled the chamber. Chris glanced around spotting both his brother and Barbas, and the fact that he had unintentionally orbed right in the middle of them. He gave Wyatt a confused look "What's going on?"

"Oh nothing much…" Barbas shrugged nonchalantly, drawing Chris's full attention. "Wyatt here is just a teensy bit desperate to learn that secret you've been hiding, Whitelighter… so I thought I'd… _help_… him out a little."

Barbas raised his hand, studying his palm as if reading a book. "You're greatest fear…"

"No!" Chris shouted, panicking.

"…is your big brother."

"Wait!" Wyatt demanded, seeing Chris's distress and realising just how badly wrong the situation had gone. He should have seen it coming, Barbas was the Demon of Fear after all, but his desire had blinded him and he had delivered the brother he had sworn to protect right into the ancient demon's clutches.

At the shout, Chris glanced behind him, just catching sight of Wyatt with long hair, black clothes, and Excalibur held loosely in his hands. He snapped his eyes shut and turned back to Barbas "No! It's not real, nothing you show me is real! That never happened… He never… I stopped that from ever happening!"

"Did you?" Barbas questioned, getting right to the heart of the matter. "How can you be so sure that you didn't just _delay_ the _inevitable_…? Everything you fought for… all that you sacrificed… Nothing can stop it! And doesn't that just _terrify_ you…?"

"Stop it!" Wyatt yelled, trying to use his powers to attack Barbas – but nothing happened. He was scared, and Barbas was using that fear to keep him paralysed. All he could do was watch as the demon goaded Chris into his darkest terrors, and listen in confusion as slowly, the truth was revealed in the worst way possible.

Chris staggered back from Barbas, and then seemed to remember that Wyatt was behind him. Wyatt with Excalibur. Wyatt that wanted him dead. He froze, stuck between a rock and hard place, trying to tell himself what was real, and what was not, but the lines between the two were getting increasingly blurred. "It didn't happen… it won't happen… He isn't…"

"Denial, huh?" Barbas smirked. "Didn't that happen the last time…? Everyone refused to see Wyatt's true nature until it was too late. _You_ refused to see it until _the event_." Chris flinched painfully as the raw memory flashed in his mind's eye. "Just turn around, take a look. The evidence of your failure is clear to see…"

Chris shook his head, still clinging to the fading hope that Barbas was just toying with his fears. But it was getting harder and harder to ignore the presence he could sense behind him. Wyatt was there. The last time he had shown his back to his brother, he had found a knife in it. Never let your enemy out of your sight. Reluctantly, he turned around, and froze at the exhibition of his true fears realised.

Wyatt clearly saw the terror in his little brother's eyes, and it cut through him like a blade to the heart. He didn't understand, the vague details he was getting explained nothing, but he knew that whatever he had done had to have been horrific to instil such an expression of fear. It made him wonder if he wanted to know the truth after all – did he really want to know what horrors had happened by his hand?

Barbas picked up on Wyatt's apprehension and decided to give Chris a little push. He altered the projection of evil Wyatt, manipulating the cold expression into an impression of confusion. "He doesn't understand Christopher… it seems that he has forgotten just what he did to you… but then again, after a lifetime of evil it's easy for a few misdeeds to slip through the cracks… Why not give him the highlights…?"

Chris glared at Wyatt, his fear slowly turning to anger.

* * *

**The Halliwell Manor**

Melinda couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

It had only been maybe ten minutes or so since Chris had received Wyatt's call and left her to pick up his babysitting duties, but in that time a feeling of unease had taken residence in the pit of her stomach. She had taken Sophie up to the attic as the child had wanted to look at the pictures in the Book of Shadows, and now Melinda sat cross-legged on the couch as Sophie sat on the floor with the huge tome.

They were alone in the house, which usually wouldn't have bothered her, but the odd feeling was setting her on edge. Call it a sixth sense, but she _knew_ something was wrong, and it had something to do with her brothers.

After another minute of trying to pinpoint the reason for the feeling like a human, she gave up and tried it as a Witch. Satisfied that Sophie was safe and otherwise occupied; Melinda sat up straight, rested her hands on her knees, and closed her eyes. She brought her breathing into a perfect rhythm, centring her focus so that she could reach out with her mind.

This wasn't something she did on a regular basis. In fact, she usually avoided actively using her telepathy for fear that she would lose control and be lost in the sea of thoughts that she barely kept at bay. But she knew she wouldn't be happy until she had solved the riddle of the tension's source, so she followed her instincts and let her mind wander outside of her physical body.

In a way, it was like astral projection, except that there was no corporeal form for her mind to jump to once she had left her own. To begin with, steering was an issue, and she found herself in their neighbours house, accidently eavesdropping on a marital argument. Eventually though she got the hang of it and with a thought she found herself propelled down under.

Like a fly on the wall, she appeared in a cavern occupied by three people. Well, two people and a demon, she realised abruptly. And that demon just happened to be the Demon of Fear, and her brothers were caught up in his influence.

She gasped, and with a painful snap she was yanked back to her body, as if her soul was an elastic band that had just been stretched and released. She gave herself only a second to recover before she was on her feet and speed-dialling on her cell phone. Piper answered after two rings.

"Mom! Barbas has Wyatt and Chris!"

* * *

**The Underworld**

Wyatt was reeling from Chris's venomous retelling of another timeline. He had been _evil_. And worse than that, he had practically been the _Source_ of all Evil. He had led an army of demons that terrorised not only the Magical Community, but the human world as well. The amount of Innocents that he had been responsible for killing… and all in the name of the power?

It couldn't be true.

But then again, the hatred, fear and anger in Chris's eyes told him that it couldn't be a lie.

"You're being rather vague…" Barbas interrupted the horrified silence that had settled following the confession. It was clear that he wasn't finished playing with them yet. "Sure… he was mean to the nice people… but what about his family… what did he do to them…? To you…?"

Chris closed his eyes for a moment, as if preparing himself for the memories that he had tried to bury so long ago. "You killed them," he whispered, his voice raw. Wyatt's eyes widened in horror. "You were frustrated that they didn't understand your reasoning; that they kept trying to talk you around. They were so convinced that they could bring you back, so you proved them wrong, and crossed the line."

Wyatt shook his head, refusing to believe what he was hearing. But what Chris saw was his evil brother smirking proudly as if being reminded of some great achievement. And it made his blood boil.

"Do you know what Mom told me when I held her dying body?" Chris demanded angrily, not waiting for an answer. "She told me to forgive you! That you didn't mean to do it! That it was an accident! That you running her through with Excalibur was an _accident!"_

"Denial is a formidable thing," Barbas muttered to himself, gleefully watching the spectacle that he had caused. He was watching the two most powerful witches in existence slowly destroy themselves with their own fears and secrets, and it was gloriously… _delicious_. "What about the others Chris…? What happened next…?"

"Uncle Henry died next. Your ordered a Phantasm to possess one of his parolees and kill him," Chris retold coldly, distancing himself from the pain of the loss. "You said that it was to get rid of the weak blood in the family, because it was all about _power_ for you. That's why you went for Uncle Coop next, because you thought the power of love was pathetic. Then Parker, Tam and Kat…"

The list was getting longer and longer, and despite the fact that the Wyatt of this timeline knew that he had never committed these murders, he felt the weight of the guilt and the shame bearing down on his soul.

"You broke Aunt Phoebe," Chris continued, without any prompting from Barbas. Though it pained him to recall the memories, it was almost a relief to finally let them out. "She came after you, alone. She didn't stand a chance. You killed her, and then you sent her body back home for P.J. to find. That's when we finally decided that there was no turning back for you, no forgiveness. All we could do was try and stop you from hurting anyone else.

"But you didn't like that," Chris took a step towards Wyatt, and Barbas watched curiously. He waved his hand to try and read the young Whitelighter, and was disconcerted to find that all his fear was gone. "You decided to teach us a lesson. You called Aunt Paige with the promise that you were going to change; but then you summoned a faction of Darklighters. You stood there and watched her dying slowly from the poison, only allowing us to find her when it was too late for us to save her."

Silence fell again after that. Barbas watched his creation warily, knowing that he had lost control of Chris. He had underestimated his pain and anger, the two emotions that were usually too well tamed for him to read accurately. He kept his distance from the powder keg, waiting for the spark that would destroy the two brothers.

"What I never understood," Chris muttered, the distance between him and Wyatt only a few metres wide "Was why you never killed me. I led the only opposition against you. I did everything in my power to bring you down – I even went back in time to save you! Even when you dragged me back; you _still _didn't kill me. Why did _I_ have to be the last one? Why did_ I_ have to watch everyone else die?"

Barbas saw an opportunity, and took it. From his relatively safe place, he projected himself next to Chris and sniffed out a deeper fear. _You only have one option left… you've tried every other way… it's time to fulfil your promise…_

"If I can't save you," Chris stared at Wyatt. "I swear to God I'll stop you."

* * *

**The Halliwell Manor**

Moments after Melinda had sounded the alarm, she was back on the couch and in a meditative trance, doing everything within her power to reach her brothers. It was easy enough to send her mind back to the cavern in the Underworld, but in the minutes that she had been gone, the situation had shifted.

She watched as Wyatt, her all-powerful Twice Blessed big brother, just stood there helplessly as Barbas manipulated Chris into dredging up memories and emotions that were better left buried. It was horrible to behold, to hear the darkness in his heart and the damage to his soul. Barbas had his hooks set in deep, and there was no way that he could fight back on his own.

So Melinda decided to help.

She wasn't sure that she could, and if she were honest, she had no idea what she was doing, but she had to try. She reached out, finding Chris's mind easily, his crumbling mental barriers already broken. But then suddenly she was drawn in and surrounded by darkness. She panicked, unsure of what she had just done, or where she had ended up. How could she help him, when she couldn't even help herself?

It took her a moment to realise that she had succeeded, in a manner of speaking. She had made it in to Chris's mind, though now she was there, she was powerless to do anything but watch and experience the picture show of painful memories that played out before her.

She knelt on the kitchen floor, her mother's head resting in her lap as blood pooled around her. She listened to her excuses for Wyatt, and felt the anger shoot through her. She crouched on the Manor stairs, watching her aunts console each other following the loss of their husbands. She failed to save her cousins as an army of demons descended on their home. She held P.J. as she wept over her mother's still body. She screamed for her father as a dying Paige slipped away in her arms.

The pain was overwhelming, threatening to break her… like it had broken Chris.

But then she was back in the cavern, seeing the world through Chris's eyes as he promised to complete his mission. Her hand rose with his, the magic stirring inside.

And then they were choking the life out of Wyatt.

* * *

**Magic School**

Through the power of magic and technical wizardry, cell phones worked within the enchanted halls. Leo gave the infernal ringing device an irritated glance, quietly longing for the days when he hadn't needed one. It had been over twenty years since he had fallen from grace, but that didn't mean that he was completely over it. He had just learned to deal with it.

And learned how to use a cell phone.

Texting was still beyond him, but he had mastered the art of making and receiving calls. Apparently the sleek piece of plastic could do all sorts of things, like surf the net and take photos and social network… whatever _that _was… but Leo only used it for what he needed it for. He relied on caller ID rather than his senses to tell him that Piper needed him, and quickly tapped the green icon. "Piper?"

"_Get home now. Barbas has got Wyatt and Chris – call Phoebe and Paige, the Charmed One's are coming out of retirement."_

She hung up before he got a chance to reply, but considering the urgency of the situation he wasn't in the slightest bit bothered. He pulled off his teacher's cloak and dropped it haphazardly on the desk before running toward the door that would take him home.

The moment he was in the Manor he called for Paige the old fashioned way, telling her to pick up Phoebe, and then ran up the stairs and into the attic. He entered the cluttered space to find a small girl he vaguely recognised as one of his younger son's charges, and his daughter who was sitting in a trance-like state on the couch. He knelt before her, placing his hands on hers, forgetting their earlier argument. "Melinda? Can you hear me?"

He didn't get a response before the room was illuminated in blue, and two thirds of the Charmed Ones appeared. He quickly filled them in with what he knew, which to be honest, wasn't a whole lot.

"Barbas, again?" Paige sighed irritably. "Haven't we vanquished him like, a _hundred_ times already?"

"Fear always comes back," Phoebe replied quietly, picking the Book of Shadows up off the floor and returning it to its stand. Sophie made to object, but seemed to realise that then wasn't really the time. Instead she just sat quietly, hugging Puggles the bear tightly to her chest.

Essentially, it was pointless to even bother with the book. There was nothing in it about the Demon of Fear that they didn't already know. But it was a hardwired reaction to any demon attack, and Phoebe found herself flicking through the pages regardless. She had just reached the entry when they heard the front door slam and Piper hurried up to join them.

Without a word she was in the potion supply cupboard and pulling out a box of their most powerful potions that were already made. They all knew that the concoctions wouldn't vanquish Barbas, but they would provide enough of a distraction – they hoped.

"How do we find them?" Paige asked as the three sisters each took a handful of vials and then held hands, ready to orb.

"I know exactly where they are," Piper replied, nodding at her daughter who was still in a trance. "Mel told me when she warned me about Barbas. North East Underworld."

Suddenly Mel gasped, her eyes still firmly closed. "No!"

* * *

**The Underworld**

Chris held Wyatt a couple of feet off of the ground, a telekinetic grip around his throat – a call back to the time when he had sent Bianca to bring him home and punished him for his disloyalty. Then Wyatt had killed her.

The grip tightened, and Wyatt's struggles got weaker as his vision dimmed and strength drained. He was dying. Chris was killing him. But that wasn't right. He wanted to save Wyatt, not kill him. If he killed his brother, then he would be alone. That's why he had gone back in the first place, because he _couldn't_ kill his brother. He had helped to stop Gideon and kept Wyatt from ever being turned…

Chris blinked, the hold on his brother's throat slipping a little. _Why am I…? What's going on…?_

Melinda, who was back-seat driving in his mind, capitalised on the moment of doubt. With a mental yell she briefly took control, wrenching his hand down and breaking the telekinetic choke hold completely. White light flashed across his vision, and he sunk to his knees, clutching his head in pain.

He was only vaguely aware of orbs to his left as the Charmed Ones materialised in the Underworld, ready and pelting Barbas with a colourful selection of deadly potions. The Demon of Fear was completely unperturbed by the onslaught, however the presence of the five most powerful Witches in existence served to dissuade him from sticking around any longer. In a wall of flames, he disappeared.

Sucking in deep breaths, Wyatt pulled himself painfully back to his feet, emotionally and physically overwhelmed by everything that had just occurred. He stood still for a moment, trying to get his thoughts in order, distantly watching his wary aunts who were giving him careful looks.

Piper came and knelt by Chris's side, taking his arm to steady him. Disorientated and confused, he glanced around "What the hell happened?"

"You told me the truth."

Chris looked up at his brother, horrified. They shared a look for maybe a few seconds, before Wyatt orbed out, succumbing to the desperate need to run away. Chris then looked to Piper apologetically, "I'm so sorry, Mom."

She shook her head and wrapped her arms around him "Don't be, I should have listened to you."

They both looked to the empty space that Wyatt had previously occupied. "What are we going to do now?"

* * *

**The Halliwell Manor**

Leo knelt before his daughter, watching and waiting and completely helpless, as she connected with her brother. The blank, peaceful look of the trance-like state had morphed into one of concentration as she used her powers in ways he had never seen before. He had had no idea just how strong her telepathy was, but then again – had he ever bothered to find out? For Melinda it had always been about repressing her ability in order to protect her from the cacophony of thoughts. Had that been the wrong thing to do all this time?

She jolted violently, and he grabbed a hold of her arms to keep her stable. He called her name in a vain attempt at helping her, cursing his humanity tenfold. He hated the uselessness he always felt whenever he had to watch his family in trouble. Of course, it was better than the alternative of never even knowing that they existed, but sometimes he wished that he hadn't had to make the choice.

With a pained yell her eyes flashed open. Blinking and breathing heavily, she scoped out her surroundings, her gaze finally settling on her father. She licked her dry lips, and then quipped hoarsely "Does this count as extra credit?"

Leo broke into a surprised smile, and then bundled her up into a bear hug, gently stroking her hair. "I'm sure I could work it into your Advanced Magic class."

"Wait," she pulled out of the embrace. "I'm failing Advanced Magic?"

Leo shrugged "Not anymore." He climbed to his feet, helping her to stand as well, steadying her as she swayed on her feet. He gave her pale face a concerned look "Maybe you should go lie down for a while."

Melinda nodded gratefully and headed slowly out of the room, just missing the arrival of four people by orb. Leo saw the expression on the face of his wife and son, and knew that something terrible had transpired. The lack of Wyatt's presence implied that he was somehow at the centre of it. "What happened?"

Chris ignored the question and went straight to Sophie who had been forgotten about in the chaos. She had curled up and fallen asleep on the floor, using Puggles as a pillow and sucking on her thumb. A glance at his watch confirmed that it was way past her bedtime, so without a word he crouched down beside and orbed her back home to Newport.

Leo watched them disappear and then turned back to his wife. He only vaguely registered the fact that Paige had orbed Phoebe out as well, leaving the two of them alone. He closed the distance between them, taking her hand and lifting her chin so that she met his eyes. Tears filled them. "Tell me what happened," he repeated patiently.

"He knows," she whispered, a tear escaping her long lashes. "Wyatt knows the truth."

Leo closed his eyes in regret, and then pulled Piper into warm hug. They had feared this for such a long time. Their eldest son was so perfect, so good, it was easy to forget that the other timeline could ever have happened. Their denial had been so strong they had done everything in their power to keep from admitting the truth. And now it was out there, known by the one person they had frantically tried to protect. "How?"

Piper sniffed, her tears now flowing freely, though she was completely oblivious to the fact that she was soaking his shirt. "Barbas… he made Chris tell him…"

"We should have been the ones to tell him," Leo muttered quietly, berating his own weakness. He felt Piper shudder against his chest. "We should have told him the moment Chris changed."

"No," Piper pushed away, not completely escaping his arms, but leaning far enough back to be able to look up at him. "No, he should never have had to know. No one should have to know! It never happened! We changed it, stopped it – so why, _why _does he have to know?"

"Piper?" Leo questioned, not liking her tone. She pulled away completely and headed over to the Book of Shadows, flicking through the pages in desperation. "Piper, what are you…?"

She stopped on a particular page, placing both hands flat on the yellowing parchment. "A Memory Spell," she muttered "We can make him forget, make everyone forget. What you don't know can't hurt you right? Erase the bad timeline completely – it never happened after all!"

"Piper, Piper no," Leo took her hands and pulled her away from the book, forcing her to look at him. "No, you can't do that. That would erase half of who Chris is, essentially delete him from existence, we can't do that to our son. The truth is out now, no more lying, no more secrets. We're going to have to deal with the consequences."

Piper looked off to one side, contemplating his words and knowing they were right. But that didn't make it any easier. "I don't want to see them in pain."

"I know," Leo whispered, embracing her again, and placing a kiss in her hair. "I don't either. But it's what we have to do."

* * *

**Newport, California**

Chris spent a few hours at the Newport condo, waiting for Anna to come home. With Sophie asleep the place was dark and quiet, and he was left alone with his thoughts. Everything that had happened in the cavern was vague, but he knew that he had said some horrible things. He knew that he had revealed more than he ever had before about the bad timeline. Wyatt, the one he was meant to be keeping the truth from, now knew more than the ones keeping the secret.

His presence in this timeline was ruining everything that he had fought so hard to save. This was meant to be a _reward_? It was more like torture. How much damage was he going to irreversibly cause before his year was up?

He had to find a way to fix this, before they lost Wyatt forever. Again.

He heard the front door to the condo open and confirmed Anna's presence before orbing back to the Manor. Considering it was one 'o' clock in the morning, the house was still awake. He had appeared in the living room, and could hear his parents calling for his brother from upstairs. The neighbours probably thought that they were all insane. Well, even more so.

Not wanting a confrontation with his parents just yet, he stealthily made his way up the stairs and to his sister's room. He knocked softly, waiting for a grunt of consent before entering. Melinda sat cross-legged on her bed, a book lying unread before her. She gave him a small smile, glad that at least one of her brother's had come home. "I know everything."

Chris blinked. "What?"

"Before, in the Underworld with Barbas, I was in your head," she explained. "I saw everything."

Resigned to yet another slip-up, Chris sighed heavily. There was a time when he had been good at keeping secrets. He could lie better than anyone. And yet now it was like he was an open book, free for anyone to take a gander at his dark past. In a way, it was a relief. Lying had always been a necessity, so he had just done it without thinking, regardless of how much he hated it. But he didn't have to anymore – he only had one secret left to protect.

"I know that too," Melinda interrupted his thoughts, apparently having no trouble reading them now that she had practically possessed him. "So, when were you gonna tell us that you only had a year left to live?"

Chris's eyes widened in shock, taken completely off guard by his sister's to the point attitude. No one was meant to know that.

"You weren't," Melinda answered for him sadly. "Why not? Maybe we could help? This family has found more loopholes in fate than anyone else has in history – we can change this too!"

"No, you can't," Chris replied firmly. "And that's why you were never meant to know. If mom or dad find out, all they would do is constantly try and find a way out and I _know _that there isn't. I've only got one year; well, ten months, left – I don't want to waste them looking for a non-existent escape, I want to spend the time with the family I thought that I had long ago lost. Do you understand?"

Melinda shook her head and climbed to her feet. "You promised that you would never leave me, when you knew that you would. I don't want you to die."

Chris didn't have an answer to that, so he just pulled her into a hug. For the first time since he had found out about his deadline, he was actually dreading it. Suddenly ten months didn't sound like very long at all, and it finally, properly hit him, that he was going to die. And he didn't want to.

But that was an issue for another day, and he pushed the fear to the back of his mind. That wasn't why he came here after all. He released her from his hold "I need your help."

"To find Wyatt," she finished with a nod. "You want to use the sibling connection thing we got to track him down and convince him that though what you told him was true that you're not really afraid of him because you know that he is not the Wyatt that did all those things."

Chris smirked "You're getting good at this mind-reading thing."

"I always could read you like a book."

* * *

**The Golden Gate Bridge**

Wyatt Matthew Halliwell knew that he was a great many things. He was the son of a Charmed One and a Whitelighter, the Twice Blessed. He was the reincarnation of King Arthur and the wielder of Excalibur. He was an overprotective big brother and a proactive defender of Innocents.

He never thought that he would add Evil Overlord, Traitor and Murderer to the list.

So what if it was another timeline. So what if it hadn't been his fault that he was turned. It had still happened. In another reality, he had done all those awful things, and his younger brother had witnessed them all. Chris was afraid of him, and he had every right to be. He didn't understand why Chris remembered what had happened, he just assumed it was a side effect of the whole time travel thing. And that's what amazed Wyatt

His little brother had gone back in time to save him.

After everything that had happened, any sane person would have taken revenge and killed the murderer of their entire family. But not Chris. He had sacrificed everything, bet everything on the hope that he could somehow stop the bad things from ever happening. And he had succeeded.

And yet the past had that funny way of coming back to haunt them.

"Hey."

Wyatt whirled around at the sudden voice, a dangerous thing to do considering how high up they were. He hadn't even sensed Chris orbing in, he had been too caught up in his own thoughts. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to talk to you, if you'll let me," Chris replied with a hint of a smirk. Wyatt was taken aback by how calm his little brother was, compared to the angry and frightened person who had tried to kill him not all that long ago. "I thought that I would tell you the end of the story."

"You mean after I killed everyone we loved, enslaved the world with demons and forced you to risk everything on some insane plan to save me?" Wyatt retorted, purposely keeping his distance.

"You didn't do any of that," Chris corrected offhandedly "But yeah, after that."

Wyatt looked down at the few cars that sped below, the traffic light due to the early hour. From their perch at the top of the tower the vehicles were reduced to ant-sized blocks with twinkling lights. He wondered if any of the occupants knew how close they had come to the dystopia that he would have created if not for his little brother. He glanced over at Chris, and nodded.

"I was running out of time, but I didn't think it mattered because we were so sure that you were already saved. We were just trying to find a way for me to get home," Chris began, leaning his back against the tower support. "But that's we found out that you were still in danger. It wasn't a demon that turned you, it was an Elder. Gideon believed that you were too powerful to live and so he planned to kill you. Turns out that that was rather difficult to do though, and so he kept you trapped in the Underworld for years trying to figure out a way. That's what would have turned you, but we intervened."

Wyatt turned away from his traffic watching to give Chris his full attention. He had only vaguely heard of Gideon in passing, a fallen Elder that lost his way. He had had no idea that Gideon had wanted him dead.

"Mom was in the hospital and the Aunts were under a weird chipper spell, so when Dad went off to try and find and stop Gideon, I was left to protect you," Chris paused, chewing his lip as if questioning whether to continue. With a sigh, he did. "Gideon came for you, cloaked so I couldn't see him. It all happened so fast. He…he stabbed me, and took you. The atheme was blessed, so Dad couldn't heal it…"

He let the sentence hang, so Wyatt finished it for him. "You died."

"In a manner of speaking," Chris replied with a half shrug. Wyatt couldn't believe it. On top of everything else his brother had done; he had freaking _died_ for him. "It didn't stick though."

"Clearly," Wyatt retorted, drawing on Chris's light-heartedness. There was something about his demeanour that was somehow making what he was saying sound less horrific.

"Do you remember on my birthday, when I just randomly orbed out of the club?" Chris asked and received a nod. "I was being summoned by an Angel of Destiny. It's all a bit hazy, but basically, two separate me's can't exist in the same timeline, dead or alive, and so she put the two of us in one body. One minute I was oblivious to the whole bad timeline thing, and the next I'm waking up in the manor with memories of another…you."

Wyatt averted his gaze. Having had just a glimpse of those memories, he couldn't imagine suddenly having another lifetime of them forced into his head. "That's why you were acting so weird."

Chris nodded. "I was confused. Trust me, one me is enough, having two in here," he tapped the side of his head "Let's just say it got a bit crowded. I've got forty-six years' worth of memories in my head, and most of the time they don't make any sense. The other Chris, from the bad timeline was more dominant, and it made it hard for me to adjust in this world.

"Mom never wanted you to know," Chris continued. "So I promised that I wouldn't tell you. Keeping the secret has been one of the hardest things I've done. All I've ever done is lie, and now that I've finally got this life, I didn't want to lie anymore."

"I guess you don't have to now," Wyatt replied "Unless you've got anymore secrets."

"Nope," Chris smiled. "You know everything I know."

Wyatt took a step towards his brother, and when Chris didn't flinch, shudder or flee in any way, he took another. "So it's over then? No more lying, secrets or anything else?"

"It's over," Chris confirmed. "Let's go home."

* * *

**Newport, California**

A week or so had passed since the big reveal, and although there were awkward moments, things had generally begun to settle down and return to normal. Or as normal as it ever got for the Halliwells.

For Chris, things were finally looking up. His two sides were officially one now that he no longer had such a huge secret to divide him. Melinda had let the whole 'less than a year to live' thing drop, for then at least, and he was beginning to enjoy his new life. He was even starting to get the hang of the whole babysitting thing.

He sat, completely relaxed, on the couch in the tiny condo, watching Sophie colour in a picture of a teddy bear. She was trying to match Puggles' colours exactly so that she would have a portrait of him to stick up in her room. Once she was finished, she held it up first for the bear's inspection, and then Chris's. "A work of art," he grinned, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "So… what do you wanna do next?"

Sophie mulled over the question for a moment, before declaring happily "I want to go to the zoo!"

"The zoo? But that's boring," Chris sighed mockingly. "I know a better place that we could go."

"Where?" Sophie said eagerly, coming to sit by his feet. He offered her a hand which she gladly took, and the pair of them disintegrated into a twister of blue orbs.

They reformed again on an outcrop of rock that overlooked part of the vast Serengeti. From their place they could see more wild animals than could ever be found in a zoo, and Sophie giggled in delight. Yep, having a Whitelighter babysitter was definitely the _best _thing in the world.

Chris grinned as he watched her, knowing that the next ten months of his life were going to be the greatest.


	4. Hook, Line and Sinker

**Charmed -:- Borrowed Time**

**Episode Summary:**

While Wyatt is summoned to the past to help keep his baby-self on the right path, Chris is left to deal with a Charge that has come under attack for no apparent reason. But there is a more cunning plot afoot, and when the culprit is revealed, how will Chris react...?

**Author's Note(s):**

Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! I know this update is a little bit delayed (understatement) but because the chapters are really standalone stories they take longer to write. Thank you for bearing with me and I really hope that you enjoy!

This part takes place a month after _Nothing to Fear_, though we start with a flashback. I also reference episode 7-20 _Imaginary Fiends_, although there are a few things that don't quite match up as my Wyatt and that Wyatt are a little bit different. Hope you don't mind :P

But anyway, Enjoy!

* * *

**Four -:- Hook, Line and Sinker**

**One Month Earlier**

The Phoenix shimmered into existence, energy ball in hand, a lifetime of training honing her instincts and warning her that she was in danger. She could feel something powerful coming, and yet she didn't run. Whoever, or whatever, was after her was clearly too strong for even her ample skills - the aura that she sensed told her that - and every lesson life had taught her screamed at her to escape and evade.

But she never had been very good at running.

The alleyway looked empty, but looks were nearly always deceiving. The setting sun couldn't reach within the small space, casting everything in shadows and providing plenty of places to hide. Sidestepping cautiously, she used the darkness to her advantage; snuffing out the energy ball and conjuring a knife in its place. She was better with a blade anyway. She waited for her hunter to make the first move, ready to turn it into prey.

As expected, her patience lasted longer, and she got her first look at him. He was tall, well built, with short blonde hair and bright eyes. She stilled her reaction, knowing that she had just engaged with the Twice Blessed, and that she needed to be careful.

He moved warily, a potion vial at the ready, clearly accustomed to these kinds of situations. She had heard all the stories of his exploits in the Underworld, and knew that the rapidly thinning population was due almost entirely to him. For all his hype however, he still managed to walk right past her without sensing her presence. She allowed herself a smile.

Once his back was turned away from her, she made her move. She kicked off of the wall behind her to increase her momentum, her knife ready to bury itself between his shoulder blades. But then a wall of blue light flashed around him, bouncing her back and slamming her painfully into the wall.

That was her best chance, and she had just blown it.

She cursed under her breath as she dragged herself back to her feet. The Twice Blessed watched her guardedly, his eyes studying her. He seemed uncertain until his gaze settled on the birthmark on her arm. And then he attacked.

He feinted throwing the potion, making her dodge the imagined threat, and then flung out his other hand. Orbs danced around a fire escape, and instantly the ladder dropped and blocked her path. Unperturbed she jumped onto it, climbing the rungs and flipping up and onto the lowest platform. She threw the knife at him which he deflected with a small version of his force field.

She capitalised on the higher ground, literally raining energy balls down on him, but they all harmlessly impacted on his shield. Sensing a stalemate, the Twice Blessed darted under the metal shelf on which she stood, disappearing from sight. Summoning two knives this time, she shimmered back to ground level.

He was expecting that though and threw the potion at her materialising form. As pure reflex she raised her arms; and the potion collided with the blades. The small amount that splashed her did nothing more than inflict a little pain, smoke rising from the tiny patches of scolded flesh. For a moment, the fight paused and the two of them shared a look. The Twice Blessed realised that he had been overconfident when he had only brought one potion with him. The Phoenix was injured and outmatched, but too stubborn to retreat.

She made the first move, closing the distance between them with a shimmer, getting so close that his shield would not protect him. He managed to block most of the blows that she delivered quickly and precisely, but it was clear that close quarters was not his speciality. She connected with a right hook that sent him staggering, following him so as not to lose her advantage.

But then he orbed out of her reach, reappearing further down the alley on unsteady feet. She cursed again, knowing that the impossible to win fight had just got harder. Trying to capitalise on his disorientation, she shimmered again into close quarters, but the dizziness had been an act – and she had fallen for it. The moment she dematerialised he had thrown up his shield which she then collided with, hard. She rebounded uncontrollably, crashing into a pile of junk beside a dumpster.

Pain shot through her and after a moment of seeing nothing but white, she glanced down. Something sharp, bloody and unidentifiable protruded from her chest, maybe a few inches below her heart. Instantly she was gripped by pure fear as she realised that she was going to die. She felt a cold that seeped through her bones as the certainty of it hit her. Her breath came in short, desperate gasps as her vision blurred and began to dim.

The Twice Blessed hesitated, probably unaccustomed to his targets hanging around instead of vanishing in a column of hellfire. He didn't realise that although Phoenixes were classed as evil, they were still witches and died like any normal mortal, leaving their remains un-cremated. Disturbed, the Twice Blessed fled in a flurry of blue.

The Phoenix stared up at the small sliver of dying sun between the rooftops of the tall buildings on either side of her final resting place. She had never imagined that she would go like this – alone and surrounded by trash. She had always figured that it would be in a blaze of glory or while taking down some heroic figure of good. But no, here she was, cold, lonely and afraid, taking her last breaths.

"Alyssa!"

The Phoenix couldn't believe her ears, and barely managed to croak the name of the newcomer. "_Bianca_…"

"Alyssa, what the hell happened?" Bianca demanded, skidding onto her knees with surprising grace. She examined the wound but made no attempt to move her friend. It didn't take an expert to know that there was no point inflicting any more pain than she was currently in. She was too far gone, and Underworld healers were not exactly qualified. Instead she just held the young woman's hand and offered comfort. "Tell me who did this."

Alyssa was struggling to breathe, let alone talk, her breath sounding sickeningly wet as blood pooled in her throat. But even as her life slipped away from her she knew what Bianca was offering, and she wanted it. Revenge.

"_Halliwell_."

* * *

**P3 – Nine months and counting…**

It was ungodly o'clock in the morning and the club had closed for the night… or day, technically. Outside it was a pitch black, moonless night, and inside the darkness was barely kept at bay by the low mood lighting. A single occupant stood behind the bar, silently counting, the only sound the soft rustle of bank notes.

Chris actually liked this time of day. He was one of the few people to see it – before the early-birds woke up and after the night-owls had gone home. There was an odd peace that came from having 98% of the population of a usually busy city tucked out of sight, and for him, this period of calm held more power than the famed witching hour. It was the perfect time to think – no interruptions, no derailing of the proverbial thought train; just the quiet leaving you alone with your thoughts. Although right now, he was desperate for a distraction. He didn't like where his thoughts had taken him.

Nine Months.

Thirty-six Weeks.

Two-hundred and fifty-two Days.

_Damnnit._ He hissed internally to himself, losing count of the cash as his mind swirled around all the variations of how much time he had left. He found it hard to believe that it hadn't bothered him at first – if anything, it had been a date to look forward to, but now… Now things had settled. His two halves were one, his dead family were alive, he didn't have to fight every day, he had his brother back, almost as if nothing had ever happened, and… and his sister knew about his looming deadline.

That had definitely not been a part of the plan. Sure, for the first time in either timeline he hadn't exactly _had_ a plan, but someone, _anyone_ finding out that little titbit of information had come under the 'must not happen' category. He had taken to avoiding her as much as possible ever since, which he knew wasn't fair on her. But the timer above his head already ticked incessantly in his ears, and whenever he saw her it just got louder.

He finished counting a stack of money, and then sighed heavily and let his head hit the counter. In typical Halliwell fashion, not even his _life extension_ was allowed to be easy. At least he wouldn't miss that.

"What are you doing here by yourself?" the voice echoed eerily as the owner had yet to fully form out of the column of orbs. Chris lifted his head to see his big brother materialise with a disapproving frown on his face – he didn't even try to resist rolling his eyes. "How many times has mom told you not to be alone during cash-up? If this place got robbed…"

"I can take care of myself," Chris interrupted. He had indeed heard the lecture enough times from Piper, and didn't particularly fancy a repeat.

"I don't doubt that," Wyatt replied, an odd look scattering across his features before disappearing completely. He took a seat at the bar, orbing himself a beer and leaving the two of them in silence. This wasn't uncommon, the whole awkward silence thing. It was to be expected considering what had happened.

Chris decided to be the one to break it. "Well, if you're hanging around, you could at least make yourself useful."

Wyatt shrugged, ignoring the request, quite content to enjoy his beer in peace. Chris sighed and continued counting, quicker than before. All of a sudden, he really wanted to just go home, and away from his brother's uncomfortable presence. After about a minute of the quiet, Wyatt made to say something, but shut his mouth before a sound could escape. Chris threw him a look, then returned his attention to the last handful of bills. It had been a damn good night, and it was a _Wednesday_ (well… Thursday now… if you want to be pedantic…)

Once done he put the money in a lockbox and turned around to mark down the total in a ledger. He glanced up in time to catch Wyatt's reflection in the mirror once again imitating a goldfish. Chris furrowed his brow; his brother was never usually one to struggle with words. To be honest, he was often overly blunt, saying things outright without fully thinking it through. It was getting disconcerting as Chris saw him hesitate for a third time. "Okay, whatever it is, spit it out."

Wyatt looked up, surprised, followed quickly by that odd look from earlier. "It's nothing."

"Yeah right," Chris retorted, taking the now empty beer bottle from his brother's hand. "You did not come here at four in the morning just to have a drink. You obviously want something, so _spill_."

Wyatt averted his eyes from Chris's expectant stare, suddenly finding the surface of the bar extremely fascinating. "You probably don't want to talk about it. Especially with me…" He made to get up, apparently having rethought his entire reason for being there.

"You want to know about the other timeline."

The silence that followed that statement answered the question, and for a third time in the last half hour, Chris sighed. Honestly, he had no desire to dredge up memories of a life that only he had experienced, but if past events were anything to go by,_ not_ talking was worse. Wyatt nodded, almost subconsciously orbing two bottles of beer onto the counter between them. Piper would throw a fit if she knew. "Look, I know it didn't happen, I get that. But I also know that for you it _did_ happen…"

"Alright," Chris said, taking a swig of courage from the proffered drink. "I'm ready, ask me anything."

"There were some good things, weren't there?" Wyatt asked, taking Chris off-guard. He had been expecting questions about his brother's sadistic rule, or maybe some more details of the hundreds of horrors that had happened. But no, that question had blind-sided him completely. "You had someone, didn't you?"

Chris blinked dumbly, his entire relationship with Bianca playing like a home-made movie in his mind's eye. He cleared his throat, giving his head a slight shake to disrupt the memories. "What makes you say that?"

Wyatt snorted a short laugh. "You've been 'you' for three months now, and I haven't even seen you _look_ at a girl. You've never been single for this long." He took a drink, and suddenly became more serious. "At first I thought it was because of the whole two timelines thing, but now I realise that you're acting as if you're in a serious relationship. Who was she?"

"She was my fiancé," Chris admitted quietly, making Wyatt's eyes widen. Apparently he hadn't been expecting that. Most people seemed to think that Chris was too young, and with the age gap… in this time it might seem a little odd, but in their world it had been one of the few things that made perfect sense. "You have to understand, it was a different world. You grow up fast or you don't grow up at all. And… well… you never knew when your time would run out, so you made the most of it."

Wyatt looked guilty at that, clearly blaming himself for what his other-self did to the world. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it wasn't you," Chris assured him, though he knew it would take more than just words to convince his brother of that fact.

"Tell me more about her. She has a name right?" Wyatt asked, trying to lighten the dark mood that had settled.

"Bianca," Chris half-smiled, finishing off his beer, slightly surprised by how little time it had taken him to do it. Another one orbed into its place and he smirked. His brother had always been a bad influence – let's just say it wasn't Leo _or_ Victor that took him for his first beer, and he definitely hadn't been twenty-one. "She was stunning. Perfect in every sense of the word. She was caring and understanding and well, she put up with me – which is a miracle. And she had a surprisingly good sense of humour for a Phoenix."

"A Phoenix?" Wyatt questioned suddenly, his mind flashing back to a month ago in that alleyway. Chris took the tone as disapproval though and he rolled his eyes.

"I know that they're supposed to be evil assassins or whatever, but back then it wasn't like that," Chris explained. "Good and Evil didn't really exist, it wasn't as black and white as that. If anything it was a choice between _Him_ and Us, and with that division, Bianca and I fell on the same side. Most of the time."

It was Wyatt's turn to finish his beer, the new one orbing in place before he had even put the old one down. Chris noticed this, picking up on the sudden nervousness of his brother, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what he had said wrong. Surely Wyatt wasn't this concerned that he had courted an 'evil' witch? It was practically tradition – you weren't a Halliwell until you dated a demon. Even if it was in an alternate timeline. Wyatt had made his way halfway through the bottle before he asked "Have you ever tried to find her?"

Chris shook his head. "She… she died in the bad timeline. Even before all this I knew that _my_ Bianca was gone. Besides, here, technically we haven't even met, and if we did she would probably just kill me. So no, I haven't gone out looking for that fight."

"Good." Wyatt said shortly, drawing a slightly taken-aback look from his brother. "Not good that she died, obviously, just good that… you're over it… or something…"

"Okay, what happened?" Chris demanded, not liking his brother's odd attitude. Wyatt tried to feign innocence, but the attempt failed epically. "You're taking a sudden interest in my love-life, or lack thereof, and the fact that my dead-ex is a Phoenix has got you all turned about. Just tell me what happened."

"See, it's frustrating when people don't answer you, isn't it?" Wyatt couldn't help but retort in a vain attempt to change the subject. Chris glared at him, knowing that he would cave sooner rather than later. Wyatt had always been terrible at keeping secrets. He sighed reluctantly. "A month ago, back when… you know… _that_ happened, there was more to the deal than I told you. I had to vanquish a Phoenix assassin that was supposedly after him…"

"And you think it was Bianca?" Chris interrupted, not allowing any emotion onto his face. The divide between _his_ Bianca and the one in this time that he had never met suddenly didn't seem so wide anymore.

Wyatt shrugged, trying to decipher Chris's reaction and failing. "I don't know, it just seems like something that Barbas would do – have _me _kill your girlfriend from another time and turn us against each other, just in case his usual tactics didn't work."

"Barbas didn't know about Bianca," Chris shook his head forcefully in denial. "At least I don't think he did anyway…"

"Right," Wyatt agreed quickly, quite eager to take the easy way out. Though his brother was claiming to be over it he highly doubted that he would just be okay with her being dead – by _his_ hand. "It was just a coincidence."

Chris nodded, downing the last of his beer.

_It was just a coincidence._

* * *

**Kilmartin Industries, San Francisco**

It was eleven o'clock that Thursday night and all of the sane nine-to-fivers had long since dispersed, leaving the parking lot eerily empty. There were only two cars; one rusted and abandoned and adorned with a year's worth of parking tickets; the other a silver four-door saloon. It was purposely parked under the only working streetlamp in the lot, the owner having realised that he would be the one working this ridiculously late.

The Phoenix shimmered into an office building nearby, the elevated position giving her a perfect view over the entire lot. She stood in the darkened office mere inches from the glass of the window pane, just waiting.

It wasn't long before a lone figure appeared, a briefcase in one hand and a PDA in the other, seemingly unperturbed by the creepiness of the empty lot. But that would soon change. The Phoenix tilted her head slightly, silently communicating with some gullible demons she had amassed as her mooks. Moments later nine or so of the Narck demons shimmered around the unsuspecting man, causing him to drop his briefcase in surprise.

The Phoenix smirked. Some good witches were just _way_ too easy to sneak up on.

The man, well, the witch, recovered from the shock quickly, a strange white light appearing in his free hand. Several of the Narck demons created and threw energy balls at him simultaneously, but the witch drew a horizontal line in the air with his ignited hand, and the energy balls hit an invisible wall. Instead of rebounding however, it was if they had suddenly become incredibly heavy and all of them hit the concrete in a series of thuds.

_Gravity manipulation_ the Phoenix thought to herself, quietly impressed. She had not been expecting _that_. The young man was meant to be a first generation witch, implying that he was not meant to be overly powerful, but if the display she was witnessing was anything to go by he was obviously quite capable of holding his own. At least against a handful of Narck demons. She tilted her head again, and the number of them surrounding the man instantly doubled.

The PDA had hit the deck at some point, leaving both hands free. White light stayed in one, while a weird shadow appeared in the other. He simply waved at the demons on his right, and instantly they were floating like helium balloons. The energy ball onslaught from the others continued to hit the white wall, never getting anywhere near him. The parade balloon demons were suddenly released from the anti-gravity well, and dropped back to earth with sickening thuds. The impact vanquished them painfully.

The Phoenix watched and waited, replacing the fallen demons with the supply she had at her beckon call. Soon he would call his Whitelighter. He would have to; no one could use that kind of power for too long.

As if on cue, the white wall faltered, an energy ball making its way through and hitting its mark. The witch was thrown to the ground from the force of it, both light and shadow extinguished from his hands. The Narck demons advanced, she had needed to summon almost the entire clan to get this far, and the ones remaining looked pissed at their diminished numbers.

And finally the moment came. From her distance she couldn't hear the shout, but the appearance of blue and white lights confirmed it. A grim smile split her features as she recognised Christopher Halliwell.

It took him a millisecond to assess the situation, and then he immediately leapt into action. He flung out an arm, scattering half of the assembled Narcks across the parking lot. The other half followed a moment later, buying him enough time to reach his Charge and orb them both to safety.

The Phoenix tutted. She had expected him to hang around longer than that, maybe vanquish at least a handful of the demons, but no. The safety of his Charge had trumped the need to get rid of evil. She would have to remember that for when she finalised her plans for the real thing. Because that was all this was – a trial run. One does not simply attack the Halliwells with a half-baked strategy and truly expect to succeed.

No. Bianca was careful, and patient and observant.

And she would get her revenge.

* * *

**The Halliwell Manor**

"And they just attacked him?"

"Yeah," Chris confirmed as he stood at the pedestal in the attic. It was the morning after and he had come back home to check the Book of Shadows, which his older brother had been using. Melinda had joined not long after, having sensed their arrival, and now she sat cross-legged on Great Aunt Pearl's couch, a Magic School textbook open on her lap. "And Sean claims that he didn't provoke them, he didn't even know what they were."

Wyatt crossed his arms across his chest. "So, out of nowhere, a horde of demons randomly attack your Charge for no apparent reason? That can't be right."

"Why not?" Melinda perked up, gesturing with her pencil. "Demons attack us for no reason all the time."

"Yeah, but that's because we're us," Wyatt explained with a shrug. "And Sean… well, he's _Sean_. Sure, he's not helpless but he's not exactly a threat to _anyone_. I mean, he doesn't even hunt demons or anything." Both of his siblings rolled their eyes at that. "What?"

"_Most_ witches don't hunt demons," Chris replied with a smirk, and Wyatt looked genuinely surprised. "In fact, none of my Charges do. They protect an Innocent every once in a while, but that's about it. Then again, it's not like they really need to with you and your one-man army against the… found them."

He stopped absently flicking through the Book as he recognised the remarkably good rendition of the demon clan staring up at him. Wyatt came to stand behind him, reading over his shoulder, his confusion doubling. "Narck demons? But they're so low level I don't think they're even on the Underworld hierarchy. Why would they send practically their whole clan to take out one witch? That's just stupid."

"An upper-level demon must be pulling their strings," Melinda helpfully inputted. "But that still begs the question as to _why_ would they go after Sean?"

Chris shrugged, but suddenly an idea struck Wyatt. "Sean's not the target. Whoever it is, they're after you, Chris. That's the only thing that makes sense."

"Well, then I guess they failed then," Chris replied nonchalantly, earning a glare from his overprotective big brother. "What? I literally showed up, knocked them down and left – they didn't even try and attack me; which shoots your theory down in flames."

"No it doesn't, it proves it," Wyatt stated firmly. "This has got to be one smart demon, Chris. A direct attack on us is suicide, but by using your Charges they can get you to orb anywhere, into any situation, completely blind. I bet that attack on Sean was just a run-through – that's why they let you leave without a fight."

"Or they just weren't after me," Chris argued. Wyatt rolled his eyes in frustration, making Chris sigh. "Fine, tell you what, I'll be careful – just in case. But I still think you're wrong."

Wyatt was about to retort when all of a sudden he found himself surrounded by a swirl of white lights. Chris and Melinda jumped to attention but could do nothing but watch as the oldest of the Halliwell progeny simply disappeared. "What the hell…?" Melinda muttered after a moment of stunned silence. "Did Wyatt just get summoned?"

"I think he did," Chris replied, his brow furrowed in confusion. He glanced at his sister, and then back at the spot where his other sibling had literally just been standing. He closed his eyes for a second and cast out his senses, but came back with nothing. "I can't find him, you?"

Melinda copied him, her telepathy generally a little more reliable when it came to locating lost family members. "Nothing," she answered with a shake of her head. "I'll get the scrying crystals."

"No, don't bother," Chris brought her up short, and she gave him a surprised look. "He was summoned by good magic – the white lights are proof of that. I'm pretty sure he just got pulled back in time."

"Pretty sure? That doesn't sound overly convincing," Melinda said as she resumed her earlier task and bent over the map that was a constant ornament in the attic. "What makes you say time travel anyway? If that was the case shouldn't he be back already, as if he had never left? I thought it was all meant to be relative or something."

Chris shrugged. "Depends on the spell, the situation and a whole load of other variables – time travel is tricky like that, trust me." He was practically the resident expert in the subject having spent well over a year in the past, so Melinda took his word for it. "And as to why; do you remember that story that mom used to tell us about Wyatt and his imaginary demon friend? She said that she accidently summoned his future self back to the past in order to figure out why he was talking to himself. His _twenty-five_ year old self…"

"And you reckon that that is what just happened?" Melinda questioned, still spinning the scrying crystal regardless. She caught Chris shrugging again in her peripheral vision and rolled her eyes. He was hardly filling her with confidence. "And what if it's not…?"

"It was still good magic that summoned him," Chris pointed out, almost completely positive that he was right. For most people time-travel would be a long shot explanation at best, but they were Halliwells after all; it was pretty common for them to take jolly jaunts into the past. Melinda was still looking at him doubtfully. "If it turns out that I'm wrong I'll be the first person to rally up a search party, but until then we just have to wait for him to come back."

Melinda reluctantly let the scrying crystal drop to the table with a clatter. "Our family really needs to stop messing with time. It can only end badly."

Chris smirked at her sarcasm and returned his attention to the Book of Shadows, allowing silence to reign in the small space. Melinda didn't move from where she knelt by the map table, her Magic School studies entirely forgotten. For her, the room wasn't in the slightest bit quiet. In fact, she didn't actually know what 'quiet' was. Her whole life she had always been accompanied by the whispers of thoughts, more often than not drowning out her own internal monologue, leaving 'quiet' and 'silence' to be nothing more than concepts.

So now as she sat on the hard wooden floor she listened sadly to her older brother's thoughts. She didn't do it intentionally, she always had her mental blocks up to give those around her at least some semblance of privacy, but in the lull there was nothing she could do but listen. "Two-hundred and fifty-one days, huh?"

She winced slightly as she felt, rather than saw Chris flinch and stare at her. He didn't answer, but considering she was privy to his thoughts, he didn't really have to.

"Time really does fly," she muttered distantly. Chris shifted awkwardly, but still didn't say anything. "You know, nine months may not sound like long, but it's plenty of time for us to figure a way out of this."

"There is no way out," Chris stated firmly, and Melinda felt herself becoming increasingly annoyed. She hated the fact that he had just quit and that he wasn't even _trying_ to find a way to stick around. She despised the fact that she knew but had no way of attempting to prevent the supposedly inevitable without going against him. She wanted to save _him_ and yet he had long since given up on himself. "We've already discussed this."

"No," she pushed herself to her feet and spun to face him. "I refuse to believe that after everything this family has been through that the Fates or the Powers that Be or whatever can be so cruel as to do this to us! There is a way out and I'm going to find it, with or without you!"

"Mel…" Chris reached a hand out toward her but she turned away. She marched over to her abandoned school books and gathered them up into a haphazard pile. "Mel, listen…"

"No! You listen!" She snapped, clearly having inherited her mother's temper. "I've known for a month, and it's driving me insane! I keep asking myself over and over 'what am I going to do without you?' and do you know the answer I keep coming back with?" she paused, though not long enough for a reply to actually be formed. "Nothing. I don't know the answer, I can't even imagine you not being here."

Her temper withered slightly as tears formed in her eyes. She had wanted to get this out for so long and as she vented the fears she had been trying to disregard for weeks all rose to the surface. "What hurts the most," she barely whispered, ignoring the pained and guilty thoughts she was picking up on from her brother. He needed to hear this just as much as she needed to say it. "Is that I'm terrified of losing you, but you don't even seem to care that you're going to leave us behind."

Chris stared at her, speechless. He had had no idea how badly the truth had affected her. Though he had been keeping the secret for this reason, he hadn't expected such an emotional response. He was a little stunned that someone cared that much. A lifetime of being the one left behind as everyone around him slipped away had broken him to the point where he had believed that no one would care as he was the only one left. He should have realised that in the reality he had created he _did_ have a family that loved him. He knew the pain of losing them – he didn't wish that on anyone.

Finally, he saw his fate from an outside perspective. He knew now that asking Melinda not to try and help had been a stupid thing to do – if the roles were reversed he knew that not even undomesticated equines could hold him at bay. "Mel, I'm s…"

"Don't." She cut him off, more upset than angry by this point. The tears flowed freely, but he only caught a glance at her face before she had spun on her heel and retreated. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to keep his own emotions in check, and then gazed sadly at the space his sister had just vacated.

"I'm so sorry." He whispered to the empty room.

* * *

**Chris & Sean's Apartment**

Sean Cooper was severely freaked out.

Sure, he had fought demons before, he kind of had to considering that was apparently his calling in life, but he had never been targeted like that before. They knew where he worked, where he parked his car and when he was going to leave the office. Someone, some_thing_ evil had taken an interest in him. Him, Sean, unassuming, unobtrusive, insignificant Cooper. 'Severely freaked out' was a major understatement.

Hence why he now found himself in his apartment, trapped by his own request in a protective crystal cage. They surrounded him where he sat on the couch, creating a rectangle of safety in a world that suddenly seemed to have gotten a whole lot more dangerous. He could see threats everywhere, both real and imaginary, which was not helping his frightened disposition.

And his Whitelighter, his supposed protector and guardian angel, had left him.

What kind of a friend did that? Okay, so he was going to investigate what had attacked him and why so that Sean didn't have to leave the security of the crystal cage, and _sure_, he had stayed up with him all night when he had been too panicked to go to sleep… but _still_. He was alone now, and he didn't like it.

The doorbell resounded around the tiny flat like the crack of a gunshot. Sean shot to his feet, staring in the direction of the offending object with a mixture of suspicion and fear. He stood stock still, seemingly frozen, for a whole minute before the bell sounded again. The second time seemed to jolt him out of his shocked state and he blinked stupidly.

_There's someone at the door._

His brain helpfully supplied, trying to prompt him into action. The bell dinged a third time, accompanied by someone impatiently knocking on the wood. _There's someone at the door,_ his brain repeated as if trying to lead a young child towards the answer to an easy question. And it was then that it hit him. There was someone at the _door_, ringing the _door_bell. Since when did demons use _doors?_ He shook himself and rolled his eyes. One demon attack and he's reduced to a hermit afraid of his own shadow? "Get yourself together man!" he hissed under his breath.

For the fourth, or maybe the fifth time, the doorbell rang again. Whoever it was on the other side was incredibly persistent, he had to give them credit. Spurred on by the reclamation of his manhood, he hesitated only a brief moment before stepping out of the cage. The apartment was small enough that it was only a few strides between couch and door, and he soon found himself mere inches away from the increasingly impatient knocking.

"Alright, alright! Christ!" he snapped irritably as he made his way through the many bolts and chains that he had insisted on putting on the door. It never seemed to bother his Whitelighter roommate; probably because he rarely actually _used_ the door. He pulled back the last lock and turned the handle "There! Now what the hell do you… oh shit."

He had barely finished the curse before he found himself flying through the air and slamming painfully into the ground. Bright lights danced before his eyes from the collision of skull with floor, leaving him dazed long enough for the unexpected guest to shut the door and come to crouch over him.

He blinked rapidly to clear the haze, catching a glimpse of flawless golden skin and dark brown hair before a new pain hit him. His back arched automatically as he writhed under her grip. He didn't register that her hand was actually inside of his chest, nor did he recognise the odd feeling of being completely drained of his magic. All he knew was that it hurt, and that he really wanted it to stop.

And then it did. He dragged in a rasping breath as he got his first good look at his attacker. She was gorgeous, in a dangerous kind of way, her beauty and intent exemplified by the skin-tight leather ensemble that she was clad in. _Well, if anyone was going to kill him, it might as well be a sexy woman_, he thought to himself, and then wondered how hard that hit to the head had been. "What do you want?" he demanded weakly, making his attacker smile conspiratorially.

"All in good time," she promised. She placed her hand back on his chest, but instead of the influx of pain that had followed before, Sean found himself shimmered to a new location.

It wasn't much bigger than the apartment that had just dissolved around them. It didn't have the cave feel nor the torchlight that would have made him peg it as the Underworld, but then again, Sean had never actually _been _there so he couldn't really compare. It was more like a warehouse. The walls were metal, harsh wind whistling through the gaps, and the floor beneath his back felt suspiciously like concrete. Maybe the Underworld had a warehouse district? Stranger things have happened.

Before he could ponder his current location further, he found himself hauled onto his feet. He was silently impressed by the woman's strength – he wasn't exactly a lightweight. Upright and relatively steady, he decided to take the opportunity to turn the tables. He raised his left hand, summoning his power – but nothing happened.

He stared dumbly at his useless appendage as a chain was wrapped around it. He lifted his other arm to fight back, defend himself, but the chain just twisted around that wrist as well. The woman smiled at him the whole time as if greatly amused by his inadequacy in the hostage situation that he now found himself in. He grunted when she yanked on the other end of chain, effectively stringing him up to the rafters of the warehouse. His feet hovered mere inches off of the ground, but it felt like miles as all of his weight was held up by his bound arms.

He hung there like swine in a slaughterhouse, his culler circling him appraisingly.

"Easier than I thought," she muttered, stepping up to his face to study him further. "Though to be expected from an overly sheltered witch."

"Sh-sheltered?" Sean had the insanity to be insulted when really he should have been petrified. When this situation was resolved, and it would be when his super-powered Whitelighter came charging in, he knew that he would dissolve back into the puddle of paranoia he had been earlier. But now he had adrenaline on his side (not that it had been much help in the whole _avoiding_ getting captured part…) and it was keeping the paralysing panic to a happy minimum.

"Yes, _sheltered_," The woman repeated with an eye roll. "All you good witches are these days. You've become complacent now that the so-called Twice Blessed fights all of your battles. I can't wait to see how you fare once I've gotten rid of him."

"You're after Wyatt?" Sean asked confused. _Then why the hell am_ I_ here?_

The woman grinned as if reading his thoughts. Seeing the powerless witch struggle over the complexities of her plan was entertaining, a good show to open with. Though it would be nothing compared to her final act. "Now, would you be a good little witch and call for your Whitelighter, please?"

"Why?" Sean wondered aloud. "I'm not Wyatt's Charge."

The woman sighed querulously. "Look, I don't want to sound cliché, but there really is an easy way and a hard way to this. The easy way is that you do as I say, _when _I say it. The hard way is that I kill you and make your Whitelighter orb here when he senses your death. It's your choice."

Sean took a moment to consider his options. Not that he had many. His kidnapper was after the Halliwells, that much was obvious, and by calling for Chris he would essentially be delivering them to her. But then again, that much was practically inevitable, and this way he might actually get to stay alive. He closed his eyes, despising how quickly he had rolled over.

Glaring at the woman before him, he reluctantly called out "Chris!"

For a moment nothing happened. But then the darkness was illuminated by a column of blue and white lights. Materialising from nowhere, a six ft tall brunette warily appraised his new surroundings, his eyes trailing from Sean's strung up form to the woman who held him captive. She waited for the realisation to dawn on him, but instead of fear or anger, an indecipherable emotion flittered across his features. It looked a little bit like betrayal.

"Bianca?"

* * *

**The Halliwell Manor**

A few hours had passed since Melinda had blown up at her older brother, and after spending the time dithering between anger and misery she was feeling a little bit better. Knowing that in all likelihood Chris would vanish from the land of the living in less than a year was driving her insane, and she almost wished that she could just forget the secret that she was never meant to hear. At the same time though she knew that burying her head in the sand was most definitely not the solution.

Now all she needed was to find the _actual_ solution. She needed to figure out the loophole in the Grand Design that meant that she could keep all of her family very much alive and relatively safe. And she would do it with or without her stubborn sibling's help or blessing.

She dragged herself out of the tangle of blankets that she had bundled herself up in after her earlier outburst, blinking bleary-eyed at her room that had not fared her temper well. It was a damn good thing that she was home alone and that the neighbours already thought the Manor's occupants were insane, because the racket she must have caused during the destruction had to have been ridiculous. But she would fix that up later; right then she had to make herself somewhat presentable.

She wasn't entirely sure of the range of her telepathy, but ever since she was a kid she had always been able to sense when her mother was coming home at least five or ten minutes before her car pulled onto the driveway. That now gave Melinda a little time to sort out the mess that was her hair and glamour away her red-rimmed eyes. If her mother asked why she was so upset she was pretty sure that she would just open up and tell, and Chris had been pretty adamant that Mom and Dad weren't to know. Besides, she couldn't put them through what she was going through so she would keep the secret; no matter how much it hurt.

She was putting the finishing touches to her hair when the front door opened and Piper's voice rang up the stairs "Mel! Are you home?"

"Yeah Mom! Coming!" she yelled back. She gave her reflection one more appraising glance before she left the bombsite that was her room behind closed doors and ran eagerly down the stairs with a big smile on her face. "Hey! How was your day?"

"Long, busy, stressful," Piper replied as she took off her jacket and slipped out of her shoes. She gave a tired sigh as she glanced at the clock. "And nowhere near over. I've got to help cover the dinner rush at the restaurant as Alec called in sick and we're down a line cook. How's your day been?"

Melinda shrugged, pulling off nonchalance quite convincingly. "Fine. Just been doing some studying so that I can actually graduate in a few months. Chris came by to use the Book for one of his Charges, oh, and Wyatt got summoned and hasn't come back yet."

Piper paused at that last part, concern and confusion furrowing her brow. "Wyatt got 'summoned'? By who?"

"Well, Chris seemed to think that _you_ were the one who did the summoning," Melinda answered as she settled onto the sofa in the front room. "Well, your past self anyway," she clarified at her mother's blank look. "Something about his two-year-old self having an imaginary friend who just so happened to be a demon – is that ringing any bells?"

"Yes, I remember," Piper replied, trying to remember what Wyatt had been wearing when she had seen him that morning and comparing it to the hazy memory she had from twenty-two years ago. The two matched, as far as she could recall, so she moved onto the next issue that bothered her. "But the spell I used to send him back should have returned him to the same moment that I summoned him from. Why isn't he back yet?"

"Chris said something about time-travel being tricky and I just took his word for it," Melinda said lightly. She was a little disconcerted by how good she was proving to be at hiding things, especially considering that not all that long ago she had been an emotional wreck. Maybe she had learned a thing or two from her big brother after all. "So, why'd you summon future Wyatt back then anyway?"

Piper smiled, coming to sit next to her daughter on the couch. Melinda leaned her head into her shoulder and snuggled like she used to when she was younger. "Well, I didn't mean to," she admitted. "The spell was meant to help me to communicate better with little Wyatt and suddenly his twenty-five year old self materialised out of nowhere. I just wanted to know why my little boy was only talking to himself, and it turned out that he was really talking to a demon that was trying to turn him. For a little while, he actually succeeded, and we watched as Future Wyatt turned evil. Your father managed to bring him back though and the demon was vanquished, so we sent him back home."

Melinda vaguely remembered her mother telling them the same story when they were kids, but she was still surprised that Chris had been able to join the dots so quickly that morning. "Maybe that's why Wyatt isn't back yet," she pondered, "because the future, or the present, or whatever, changed pretty significantly. It may have been changed back, but a shift like that would have to have consequences, right?"

"And you think you're not as intelligent as your brothers," Piper teased lightly and Melinda rolled her eyes. "You could very well be right with that theory – we'll just have to wait and see." She glanced at the clock again and sighed heavily, her next shift at her own restaurant would be starting soon. "But if he's not back by the time I get home tonight we'll have to write a spell to summon him home."

Melinda nodded and sat back up so that her mother could get up to leave. She swivelled around so that she leaned on the back of the couch and watched as Piper replaced her jacket and shoes and collected up her car keys. "See you later."

"Bye sweetie," Piper gave her daughter a quick kiss. "Now remember, be careful and stay safe."

"Always," Melinda replied easily, the farewell being a well-rehearsed routine for all of them for as long as she could remember. Once the door closed, she curled into a ball and fell onto her side. She hugged her legs tightly to her chest, left alone with her conflicted thoughts – as well as the whispers of half the neighbourhood.

* * *

**The Warehouse**

Chris took one look at his deceased fiancé, and for a horrifying moment, he froze.

Logic bailed on him, leaving just an agonizing array of memories and emotions that prevented him from thinking beyond the beautiful, _breathing_, ghost from his past. To see her standing there, healthy and alive and giving him the patented impatient look that she always had, was completely overwhelming. He could do nothing but murmur her name in astonishment. "Bianca?"

The Phoenix looked surprised that he recognised her, and finally his senses came back to him. This wasn't _his_ Bianca. This Bianca had less than pure intentions, had just kidnapped his Charge and friend and, judging by her expression and stance, she was about to kick his ass.

They both recovered from the initial shock at the same time, only mere seconds having passed since his arrival. Instantly she had a knife in her hand and had shimmered right into his personal space, the blade swiping the air where his face had been moments before. He dodged back instinctively, grabbing a hold of her armed hand and twisting it to force her to release her grip and drop it. Surprised by his skill, Bianca was caught off guard and he quickly found an opening to throw her telekinetically. She hit the metal wall with a dull thud and crumpled to the ground.

Taking the opportunity to get as far away as possible from the painful situation, Chris ran to his Charge, placed a hand on Sean's arm, and orbed.

But nothing happened.

Sean gave him a panicked look as they both came to the same conclusion. Chris couldn't orb. Bianca must have cast a spell on the warehouse to prevent any outward bound travel. And that meant that they were trapped, and the Phoenix was incredibly pissed off.

Distracted by their predicament, Chris didn't notice that Bianca had recovered from her encounter with the wall until he was thrown off his feet by an energy ball to the shoulder. He hit the ground and rolled back into a crouch, hissing at the sting of the burn. He made to retaliate with a flick of his wrist, but suddenly found that the small warehouse had become a lot more crowded. Demons shimmered in, a whole horde of them, surrounding the two good witches on all sides.

Chris didn't really have a choice by this point. Sure, he could have made a run for the door and hoped that the anti-orbing spell only covered the perimeter, but that would mean him leaving his friend, and there was no way that he was going to do that. He maybe could have called on his half-cupid cousins for back-up, but P.J was the only real fighter among them, and that would still leave them incredibly outnumbered. Which just left him, alone, against twenty-thirty low level demons and his not-quite-dead assassin ex. Piece of cake.

He turned himself into a moving target as energy balls came at him from every direction. He had to get away from Sean to keep him from getting caught in the crossfire. He deflected as many of the magical bullets as he could, thinning the number of opponents a little.

In the empty space there was nowhere to really take cover so he took to running towards the demons trying to kill him, getting them to take each other out with friendly fire. The situation was beginning to look a little less dire as Chris realised just how quickly he had managed to even the playing field. In fact, if it had only been him vs. thirty low level demons, he would have won easily. But with Bianca, things became a lot more difficult.

As he dodged a wayward energy ball that came perilously close to his right ear he was off balance long enough for her to capitalise. She attacked him with a series of punches that left him reeling, and then swept out his leg and slammed him into the concrete. The wind knocked out of him he lay stunned for a moment as she straddled him and reared back her arm. Realising that she was about to absorb his powers he bucked beneath her, succeeding in flipping her off of him. He clambered onto unsteady feet and telekinetically pushed her away.

She glowered at him for a moment from her place on the floor, irritated by the small trickle of blood that escaped her nose. Then she leapt, or rather shimmered, into action. One moment they were in the centre of room a good few metres away from each other, and then she was right in his face, grabbing a hold of his shoulders. And then she slammed him against the wall and held him there with an arm pressed against his throat.

This time she was able to bury her hand into his chest, and he could do nothing but stand there in agony as his powers were drained out of him.

When she was done she took a step back and smirked victoriously at him. She gestured at her demonic armada and they all made a swift exit, leaving just her and her two prisoners. The process had left Chris weak and he slumped slightly, glad of the wall for support. He glared at Bianca, trying to turn the betrayal and hurt and pain into anger. He knew that he would need it, as it looked like he was in for the long haul now.

"Christopher Halliwell," Bianca smiled slyly, "So nice of you to join us."

"What do you want?" Chris demanded, pushing off of the wall so that he stood on his own two feet. He only swayed slightly and was quite pleased with himself.

Bianca's smile grew. "What? No small talk? I'm hurt." Chris just scowled at her, impatiently. "Ah well, we'll just skip to the good part then. Call your brother."

"What?"

"Did I stutter?" Bianca retorted sarcastically. "Call your brother."

It was then that Chris realised what this was all about. Bianca was using him to get to Wyatt, and she had used Sean to get to him. She had planned several steps ahead – she always had been meticulous – perfecting the trap in which he now found himself. He couldn't escape, he had been outnumbered and now he was powerless. His only purpose now was to be the bait. He shouldn't have been surprised really; nine times out of ten the demon's plot revolved around Wyatt, why should this be any different?

However, there was a major flaw with her plan, not that she could have foreseen it. Wyatt was in the past and therefore _couldn't_ come, even if Chris did call for him. And that would surely piss Bianca off to no end. He needed to buy time. "No."

"Chris…" Bianca dragged out the syllable like she was talking to an irritable child. "I think you're missing the part where you don't have a choice. Now, _call your brother_."

"No," Chris refused again, and Bianca rolled her eyes.

"You Halliwells are all the same. Stubborn to the point of your own destruction," she sighed heavily. "But never mind. I planned for this. It's not like I actually need you to call willingly. I can just make you."

Chris didn't have time to figure out what she meant before a crossbow materialised in her hands. She had aimed and fired before he had fully registered that it was a Darklighter's crossbow. The arrow was imbedded in his stomach, the poison already working its magic, by the time he remembered just how cruel and cold his Bianca had been before he had met her and fallen in love. He dropped to his knees and sagged onto his side on the concrete.

"Even without your powers you are still half-Whitelighter," Bianca informed him as she crouched down beside him, the crossbow held loosely in her hands. "So that poison's got to be excruciating right now, huh?"

Chris wanted to come up with a sarcastic comment, but he could do nothing more than grunt in pain. He watched as Bianca stood up and looked expectantly around the warehouse. He was quite glad when no tell-tale blue lights appeared – Wyatt must still be stuck in the past.

Bianca didn't look as pleased though. In fact she looked quite worried. "Maybe I overestimated the bond between you," she muttered, passing Chris a glare as if the miscalculation was entirely his fault. She stood in silence for a moment, before her confident air was back in place. "It doesn't matter. You have a few hours before the poison will kill you, we'll just have to wait."

"And when he doesn't show?" Chris murmured quietly.

"Well, your loss will just have to be punishment enough. For now."

* * *

**The Halliwell Manor**

Melinda felt a sudden pain in her stomach and doubled over with a short cry. She fell to her knees as she hugged herself tightly as if she could squeeze the unwanted sensation away.

After a while the feeling subsided, and she furrowed her brow in confusion as she dragged herself back to her feet. She lifted her shirt to check if there was anything there to show for the strange pain, but she found nothing but pale skin. "What the hell?" she muttered as she let her shirt drop back down.

Something was wrong, that much was clear, but she highly doubted that it was something wrong with her. She figured it had to have been a psychic hit off of someone that she cared about, but no name had accompanied the pain. She wandered out and into the sunroom, and then settled herself cross-legged on the floor, easily falling into the meditative stance her Aunt Phoebe had taught her.

It only took a few moments for her to enter into a trance, and she quickly cast out her senses to cover the whole of San Francisco. She searched for the ghost sensation, and though she could feel the pain as if it were her own, she could not track down where it was coming from. There were no cries for help or anything. It was as if someone was purposely trying to mask their location despite their obviously dire situation – as if they didn't want to be found.

She concentrated harder, gradually being drawn towards the docks, but before she could narrow it down further a loud crash jolted her back to Prescott Street. She flashed her eyes open with a gasp and glared in the direction of the noise. Her annoyance turned to relief when she saw her older brother. "Wyatt!"

He didn't seem to hear her as he knelt on the ground, his arms wrapped around his stomach. It appeared that he had arrived from his trip back in time and been overwhelmed by the same sensation that she had, staggering into a lamp that had smashed to the floor and woken her. After a moment, he murmured "Chris" and made to orb out.

"No wait!" Melinda jumped forward and grabbed his partially dematerialised arm, successfully preventing him from running off. Once whole again, he gave her a slightly confused and highly irritated look. "Let's stop and think for a moment shall we? It's pretty obvious that something's wrong."

"Yeah, Chris is hurt and you're stopping me from helping him," Wyatt said shortly, climbing to his feet.

"He's not calling for help though, is he?" Melinda pointed out, keeping her hand on his arm in case he decided to orb out again. "If anything, he's pretty damn adamant that he shouldn't be found. It's got be a trap, and he's the bait."

"So? That doesn't mean that we shouldn't help him!" he snapped, his hand unconsciously going to where he could feel just an echo of his brother's injury. "He's hurt really bad, I can feel it. I can't just leave him!"

"That's not what I'm suggesting," Melinda said quietly, refusing to raise her voice to his level. "I'm saying that he's given us a warning and we have a little bit of time. So let's use it to be a bit more prepared, because if we rush in blind, we won't be any help to anybody."

Wyatt took a deep breath, trying to suppress his big brother instinct to rush head first into whatever situation Chris needed protecting from. Deep down, he knew Melinda was right, so after a moment, he nodded reluctantly. "So, what now?"

"Now you give me some peace and quiet so that I can get a look at what the hell is going on," she said lightly, glancing at the broken lamp pointedly before resuming her position on the floor. "You should look through the book and make some vanquishing potions, I won't be long."

Melinda smiled slightly at the fact that she was bossing her big brother around, but suppressed it when the gravity of the whole situation hit her. She closed her eyes and controlled her breathing, slipping back into the odd world where she was just a shadow gliding above it all.

She headed straight for the docks, and once again met the resistance that she knew was Chris being stubborn and protective. The pain had increased in the few moments since her last visit, and she could feel it weakening his resolve. Though it was upsetting to feel her brother as drained as this, she was also glad as it allowed her to find him easier than before.

She soon found herself standing in the middle of a bare warehouse and she glanced around warily. She was pretty sure that she couldn't be seen, but that didn't mean that she shouldn't be careful. She found that there were only three people in the room. Chris lay slumped against the far wall, a hand pressed around an arrow that protruded from his stomach to staunch the flow of blood. A tall, pretty woman stood nearby, watching him impatiently and Sean was chained to the ceiling on the other side of the room.

It was clear that it was a trap, but as far as Melinda could figure, it didn't look like a very good one. She went to her brother's side and knelt down, placing a hand on his forehead. He flinched slightly at the touch, and blinked his eyes open to see who had caused it. He couldn't see her, but he recognised her presence and relaxed slightly.

When they communicated it wasn't like they had a conversation; thoughts don't work like that. It was more like a series of disjointed images and concepts that she was able to translate into something that actually made sense. Once she had a better idea of the situation she realised how good a trap it was, and how lucky they were that they hadn't just orbed right in. She promised Chris that help was coming, and then disappeared into a wisp of air.

She opened her eyes to find Wyatt staring at her expectantly. "I was right, it's a trap," she said as she pulled herself up from off the floor. "Chris and Sean are being held captive in a warehouse that has been charmed to prevent anyone from orbing out. There was only one woman there, but she has an army of demons just waiting for her call. If we had just gone right in, we would have been outnumbered and trapped."

"Fine, now we know, let's go," Wyatt said, pocketing a handful of the potions he had made.

"Did you hear a word I just said?" Melinda raised her eyebrows, looking exactly like their mother. Wyatt rolled his eyes. "We go in, we'll be joining Chris, not helping him." She ignored the irritated look her brother gave her and pondered over the situation. And then a smile lit up her eyes.

"I've got an idea."

* * *

**The Warehouse**

Chris lay on his side, focusing on the suddenly arduous task if breathing. Each breath in felt like it was burning his throat, and with each breath out his vision would dim a little more. He had been shot with Darklighter arrows more times than he cared to count, and he was very familiar with the effects of their poison. He knew that he didn't have much longer, and that scared him.

He was meant to have another nine months. The Angel of Destiny had said that he would have a year. So why was he dying right now? He wasn't ready. He still had time. He shouldn't, _couldn't_, be dying right now. It wasn't possible.

And yet it was happening. He could feel it. With every passing moment he could feel himself slipping away. He had died before; he knew what it felt like. And it felt a lot like this. The Angel of Destiny must have lied. Maybe he only had _up_ to a year to live. He wasn't part of the Grand Design anymore; he didn't have a set place nor a set time in order to keep everything in balance. He was just a blip, an outlier, a rogue element. But he wasn't going to be an issue much longer.

And it had been Bianca that had done it. Through bleary eyes he glanced over at her. She was as beautiful as ever, her skin that radiant shade of golden brown and her hair silky soft and cascading over her shoulders. It was no wonder that he had fallen for her. She was a walking, talking oxymoron. She was caring yet dangerous, warm and yet so very cold, and full of just as much love as she was hate. Or at least, his Bianca had been. But with the blood loss he wasn't exactly coherent enough to distinguish between the two.

But none of that mattered anymore, because as it was always inevitable, his time was up.

His eyes slowly closed, as blue light filled the room.

* * *

Bianca snapped to attention in a millisecond, a knife in one hand and an energy ball in another. Two figures appeared out of the column of light, and she could feel the power radiating off of them. She summoned her demons, twice as many as had been there before, and threw the energy ball at the Twice Blessed. He ducked the surprise attack and came rushing at her, atheme in hand.

He swiped at her the moment he was in range, but she easily blocked the clumsy blow. She sliced his arm, eliciting a hiss of pain as he dropped his weapon, and then spun and elbowed him in the ribs. He doubled over, but turned it into a rugby tackle, lifting her into the air and then slamming her into the floor. Her head hit concrete and bounced, dazing her long enough for him to disarm her.

His advantage didn't last long though as she conjured a new energy ball and threw it at him. At such close range she couldn't miss and he couldn't dodge and the force of the blast sent him flying across the room and into the wall. She flipped onto her feet and shimmered to where he fell. There was a horrible burn on his chest and the air was tainted by the scent of scorched skin, but he was still breathing. With one hand she lifted him to his feet and pinned him against the wall. She smirked at how easy it had been to take out the supposedly invincible Twice Blessed, and then she tunnelled her hand into his chest to take his powers.

But nothing happened.

She blinked, and then glared into his suddenly grinning face. She had but a moment to realise her mistake before Wyatt Halliwell disappeared with a slight red glow. Astral projection.

Suddenly she was slammed from behind and she put her hands up to prevent her face from colliding with the metal wall. She spun, pushing off of the wall to increase her momentum, summoning a knife into her hand and swiping at her attacker. The blade hit a wall of blue light, disintegrating on contact, and she cursed. The real Wyatt Halliwell smiled, and then grabbed her and threw her clear across the room.

She should have known. She should have realised. She berated herself in the brief moment that she spent airborne. She had the sense to shimmer before she once again smacked into an unforgiving surface and landed in a roll a few metres away from where her first hostage was still hanging, watching the whole scene in silent awe. The girl that had orbed in with Wyatt was taking care of the demons, though whether or not she was a projection as well Bianca couldn't tell. But that really didn't concern her. She was more worried by the fact that the Twice Blessed was coming at her.

He couldn't orb, her spell made sure of that, but he still had ridiculously long legs and closed the distance between them in seconds. She threw energy balls at him, but she knew it was useless. They just impacted on his force field and fizzled into harmless nothingness. He grabbed her again, wrapping his hands around her throat as she tried to break his grip, pushing at his arms. She even lifted her legs off the floor so that he took all of her slight weight and kicked at his chest, but he wouldn't let go. He was going to kill her like he had killed Alyssa.

But at least she had managed to kill his brother. It would have to be revenge enough.

Her eyes rolled back in her head as she began to lose consciousness from oxygen deprivation. But then the gripped suddenly loosened. Her feet touched the ground and she drew in a shuddering breath. She blinked up into his blue eyes and was greatly confused by what she saw there. He was conflicted, unsure; he didn't _want_ to kill her. She didn't take the time to ponder as to why; his hands still hovered around her throat, and he could be decisive at any time. She shimmered.

She ran away.

* * *

Melinda vanquished the last demon with her final potion, and couldn't help but grin. She had held her own against fifty-odd demons and apart from a few scratches and a slight burn on her arm; she was none the worse for wear. Her first proper fight with the patrons of the Underworld, and she had won. She glanced over at Wyatt to see that the woman was gone, and then her attention turned to Chris.

Wyatt ran over to his little brother's side, Melinda only a few paces behind. They both knelt beside him watching and waiting as the golden glow illuminated the ragged wound. The arrow disappeared in a swirl of orbs as Wyatt telekinetically pulled it out, not able to touch it without being poisoned himself. The glow continued, but Chris didn't stir.

"What's wrong? Why isn't it working?" Melinda demanded in a panicked voice, tears in her eyes. She studied Chris's pale and still face. It wasn't meant to happen yet. They still had time. He wasn't dead.

Wyatt chewed his lip in worry, but then closed his eyes and gave a relieved sigh. "It's working, it was just close." Gradually the wound began to close and the dark blood receded. Chris's face wrinkled in pain, and then pale green eyes opened slowly. "Too close," Wyatt added.

The golden glow dissipated leaving behind no sign that the injury had ever occurred, and Chris took a deep pain-free breath. He shoved himself upright, wavering only slightly from the poison's aftereffects. Wyatt put a steadying hand on his arm and helped him to his feet. The brunette took a look around the room, and seemed almost disappointed. "Bianca?" he asked quietly.

"She got away," Wyatt replied, earning a surprised look from his sister, but a pained half-smile from his brother. He still wasn't sure if he had made the right decision, hell, he wasn't even sure if he had made a decision, but the Phoenix was gone and he hoped it would be a while before she showed up again.

"Err… Little help please?"

All three Halliwells turned at the sound of the voice to find Sean still hanging like a piñata. Chris made to go help him, but Wyatt stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "I got this." He waved in that general direction and the chain holding up the young witch disintegrated into white lights. With nothing to hold him up anymore, Sean had no choice but to obey gravity and hit the ground with a thump.

"Thanks," he muttered, not sounding overly grateful.

* * *

**The Halliwell Manor**

A few days after the whole bait and trap incident, Chris got the distinct impression his baby sister was avoiding him. He had been home a few times since, but Melinda was never there. They hadn't really spoken since her outburst and he was worried.

A little of the concern came from the possibility that she might tell someone else, and he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to handle that. But he was mostly worried for her. She was angry and upset and had been bottling it up for quite a while. He had more experience than most at how volatile that could be. He hated the thought that his little sister was in such a state, and what made it worse was the fact that he knew that it was his fault.

That was why he had orbed home, his powers restored, having sensed that Melinda was definitely there. He was quietly glad that she couldn't just teleport away to avoid a conversation like he could; he didn't particularly want to have to chase her down. He walked down the hallway outside of her room, and rapped lightly on the door. After a moment he heard a reluctant grunt of consent, and he entered. "Hey."

She sat cross-legged on her bed and looked over at him sadly. "Hey."

"I wanted to talk to you," he explained after an awkward silence. Melinda rolled her eyes and picked up a book and pretended to read it. She didn't seem to notice that it was upside down. "I wanted to tell you that you were right."

Melinda furrowed her brow at that and looked up from the unread pages. "What?"

"I've died once already," he said quietly, averting his gaze. "And the other day I very nearly died again. It made me realise that… that I'd really like to avoid that sell-by date that's waiting for me." Hope lit up his little sister's eyes and he smiled. "We got two-hundred and forty-eight days. Do you reckon that that's enough time to change it?"

Melinda jumped up from her bed and wrapped her arms around him tightly as if afraid to let go. He hugged her back. "You know it is."

"Then we should get to work."


	5. Down the Line

**Charmed -:- Borrowed Time**

**Episode Summary:**

**(Part One of Two) **As the Leo and Piper of 2004 face marital issues following the former-Elder's fall from grace, their grown children struggle to contain a threat that is even causing _Wyatt_ trouble. When a time-travel incident throws them all into the same era can they work together to save a wounded Halliwell?

**Author's Note(s):**

Well howdy-ho! It's been nearly a month, but I'm back with this epic of a chapter for you :P As always, sorry for the delay – I have many, many _very_ good excuses but I won't bore you with them after all this time waiting!

Big thank yous go to lizardmomma and Corianna15 for reviewing! And for those who are following, thanks for coming back! We are now halfway through the year (and incidentally, about halfway through the fic) but we start off in the past to meet the Piper and Leo who will be joining us on this little adventure.

Now for the tricky time-travel bits. In the past we are about three-quarters of the way through season 7, around the episode _Scry Hard_; therefore, _Imaginary Fiends _and _Forever Charmed_ have not happened yet, although in the future Wyatt has gone back to the past as we saw in the last chapter. I'm sure that made perfect sense.

Congratulations if you actually read all of that, but you can ignore me now and get to the fun part! Enjoy! :D

* * *

**Five -:- Down the Line**

**McKay & Carter Counselling and Therapy Clinic, San Francisco – 2004**

Marital problems were to be expected in even the most normal of circumstances, so it was no surprise that Piper and Leo, the very antithesis of the normality that they strove for, found themselves in counselling sessions more often than most. They had been seeing Dr McKay on a semi-regular basis for nearly four years, and though they didn't know this yet, they would still be seeing him twenty-plus years down the line.

It wasn't a lack of love that led them to the pristine yet comfortable office almost weekly – no it was love that kept them together _despite_ the regular occurrence of the problems and issues that plagued their relationship. Dr McKay found them to be the oddest of the couples on his caseload; the strange looks they often shared, and the pauses as if every word was carefully considered before being spoken. He figured that they had a secret of some kind, but he was completely unaware of their magical lives and responsibilities.

The pair of them sat on the sofa before him, a significant distance between them as they each found fascinating things to stare at on opposite sides of the room rather than dare to meet the other's eyes. Inwardly, McKay sighed, though outwardly he appeared the very essence of patience and understanding. He had been quite pleased when Piper had informed him that Leo had recently lost his job – it had always been the biggest obstacle for them, but it seemed that one solution had only opened up a new can of problems.

"Is the change in circumstance causing a financial strain?" McKay tried to coax some conversation out of his clients. Money was usually a major factor for marital stress for normal couples, but as he had learned a long time ago, Leo and Piper were most definitely not a normal couple.

Piper shook her head at the question and threw her husband a sidelong look. "No, our main source of income is my club; Leo's job wasn't about the money…"

"It was more of a calling," Leo finished.

McKay nodded, pretending to mark down something on his clipboard. In reality he was trying to fathom what Leo's career could possibly have been. It had never been specified, not even an obscure job title that meant nothing to him. But it had been domineering and demanding enough to force the clearly caring man to leave his family for half a year – and apparently it didn't even pay. Missionary, maybe? "So what do you think the problem is? Piper?"

"It's a big change that he's having a hard time adjusting to," she answered, and then pulled an irritated face. "And he's bored. Without the job he's gotten way too much free time on his hands and has taken to tidying and reorganising everything. He messed with my kitchen."

Leo made to defend himself, but McKay held up a hand. "Do you feel that _you_ have adjusted to the change then?"

"I've always understood how important being a wh… worker…" Piper recovered smoothly, leaving McKay to wonder what was so important about keeping Leo's previous occupation a secret. He pretended not to notice the slip. "His job has always been important to him, but, for a while now I've wished that he could be around more and well… now that he's… unemployed, I kind of got my wish. So yeah, I'm fine with this."

"Okay, Leo, what do you think?"

"I was given the choice between my calling and my family, and I chose Piper and the boys," Leo replied. McKay noted his use of 'calling' as opposed to 'job' for later reference. "I know I made the right choice. But before I was useful, and now I'm… use_less_."

"You're not useless!" Piper objected, turning in her seat slightly to give her husband a concerned look. "Do I… do I make you feel that way?"

Leo hesitated, answering Piper's question with the silence. McKay looked between the two of them, and then glanced at the clock on the wall behind them. The session was almost over, but he felt that he had some idea of what was causing the friction. "You feel as if you have lost your role in this relationship," he stated rather than asked, though Leo nodded regardless. "You need to figure out your new part to play, and both of you will need to make adjustments."

"What do you suggest?" Leo asked.

"I think that you should look to the future. Where do you see yourselves as a couple, as a family, in five years' time, or even ten? Give yourselves a target to work towards, and create new roles to fit into the future that you envision together."

Piper smiled. He didn't realise just how literally they could take his advice.

* * *

"I'm not sure that this is such a good idea…"

Piper threw Leo a look over her shoulder as she came to the top of the attic stairs, him following begrudgingly a few steps behind her. "How could following our therapist's advice and looking to the future not be a good idea?" she asked sweetly, though she already knew the answer.

"Well, for one, the therapist had no idea that time travel was a legitimate option," Leo retorted. "And two, this is basically the epitome of personal gain. Using magic like this… well, it could have some serious consequences."

"Or, it could help us get through this little rough patch so that when demons attack I can be sure that you're not going to do something stupid and get yourself hurt," Piper sauntered over to the Book of Shadows and started flicking. She knew the 'To Move Ahead in Time' spell was still in there despite the whole 'one use only' thing as technically they had never said the Return spell. "Besides," she said as she continued flicking, "we'll only go a few years forward, there can't have been that many changes in that time."

Leo sighed heavily. "Piper… we could learn some things that we're not meant to know, change the future _again_. The last time you used that spell you saw a completely different future than what happened, just because you _knew_ about it. After everything we went through to fix the future for our children – do you really want to change it?"

"Leo, admit it, we are having problems," Piper said bluntly, smoothing the pages of the book as she found what she was looking for. She pulled out the notebook that had taken residence by the stand. "I love you. I love that you chose us, and I love that now we can grow old together like we always wanted – but that doesn't mean that everything is hunky-dory now. You've been nigh on invincible for over sixty years but now you're not and suddenly you can get hurt and I'm so afraid of losing you and short of locking you away in Magic School for the rest of our natural lives…"

"Piper, Piper! I get it," Leo interrupted her tirade, and she looked up at him with moist eyes. She had been so calm about everything during their counselling he hadn't realised just what the problem was. But then again, she couldn't have really had that rant in McKay's office, or they would have been referred to a slightly different shrink. "You're scared…"

"I'm petrified," she corrected. "I need to know if this works, if I can be the one that keeps you safe after all this time of you being my guardian angel. I _need_ to know, Leo. And I can't let this go when I know that I can with two little rhyming couplets."

Stubbornness was not Piper's most endearing quality, but Leo loved her for it regardless, and recognised a losing battle against it when he saw it. He took a deep breath and came and stood behind her, though he still didn't look entirely convinced. "Only one year."

"Five," Piper countered, already scrawling '2009' on the piece of paper. Leo rolled his eyes but didn't say anything as they both committed the Return spell to memory. He then collected up a lighter and a tin bowl to catch the burning fragments when they said the spell. "You ready?"

_Hear the words, hear the rhyme_

_We send to you this burning sign_

_Then our future selves we'll find_

_In another place and time_

As the small scrap of paper burst into flames, the couple disintegrated into a cascade of bright white orbs that swirled for a moment before shooting skywards and through the roof. Time flew by on super-speed as the sun rose and set and rose again thousands of times over. Seasons cycled in milliseconds as the orbs travelled through the years. When they reformed again, they found themselves in a small, distinctly old-fashioned office.

Unlike the last time she had used the spell where she had found herself waking from a nap, Piper now found herself standing, hand raised as if to point at something and her mouth half open. Whatever she had been saying dwindled into an indecipherable sound as the words were forgotten, or technically not yet known. She blinked to clear the disorientation of arriving mid-sentence, and found Leo standing on the opposite side of the desk, an equally confused expression on his face. "Well that was weird," she said, lowering her hand. "Where are we?"

"Magic School," Leo instantly answered as he surveyed their new surroundings warily. "This is Paige's office; the Head Teacher's office."

"So why are _we_ here?" Piper asked and her husband shrugged, apparently not noticing the black robes he was wearing. They both moved experimentally in their future bodies, Leo grimacing painfully as he discovered a backache. "And why are we so _old?_ Tell me I don't age this bad in five years!"

"You don't age this bad in five years," Leo deadpanned, having caught sight of the calendar behind the desk. He sighed resignedly. "However, we do in _twenty-three_ years."

"_What?_" Piper almost screeched as she grabbed up the offending calendar off of the wall as if it were its fault for the _slight_ overshoot of their intended destination. "How can that… That shouldn't have… Why does this spell _never_ work right?!"

Leo half-smiled, despite the situation, "I did say that there would be consequences using magic like this…"

"Oh don't you get all high and mighty on me mister," Piper cut him off before he could finish his rendition of 'I told you so'. She threw down the calendar, wincing slightly as older limbs complained at the forceful action, and then stormed towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Leo asked. "We should be going back now."

"Everything happens for a reason, Leo, you're the one that told me that," Piper replied as she opened the door slightly and looked back at him. "The spell went wrong the last time because we were meant to learn our lesson, so I'm thinking that it went wrong this time for the same reason."

Leo shook his head. "Yes, but it was the _Elders_ that did that then. This is just the spell backfiring. We should go back before we find out too much and change things that _shouldn't_ be changed." He took a hold of her hand and pulled her back. "Look, you now know that I am definitely alive in twenty years' time, and apparently you succeeded in locking me away in Magic School. Please, let's just go home."

Piper chewed her lip as she considered his words. He was right; as he usually was most of the time, but now her curiosity had been piqued. They were _twenty-three_ years into the future. This was the time that Chris had come from; this was the future that they helped him save. She wanted to see it, if only to confirm for certain that the bad timeline had been completely averted. "Don't you want to see them?" she muttered quietly. "Our boys?"

"Of course I do," Leo answered. "But they're waiting for us at home in 2004…"

A loud explosion sounded from outside of the office, the reverberations shaking the ground and setting them off balance. Leo grabbed Piper's arms to steady her as they both looked in the direction of where it had come from. "What the hell was that?" she asked as she quickly headed outside and down the hallway.

"Piper, wait!" Leo yelled as he followed after her. Several students hurried in the opposite direction, talking amongst themselves as they gossiped over what had caused the explosion they were being herded away from. The most common word he overheard was 'Halliwell' and he doubled his pace in concern. The couple soon found themselves in the school's library where a small gaggle of black-robed people were warily studying a door that Leo was pretty wasn't there the last time he looked… in 2004. "What's going on?"

"Leo, thank god!" one of them, a woman with wire-rimmed glasses that eerily magnified her grey eyes, greeted. "Demons are trying to get into the school through the Manor!"

"Wait, that door goes to the Manor?" Piper asked, earning herself a curious glance from the wide-eyed woman. Apparently she should have known that, considering that it had been a part of her home for nearly twenty years and she herself had not long walked through it in order to get here.

Leo passed Piper a look and then addressed all of the teachers. "Keep the students well away from here and seal off the library as a precaution. We'll go see what's happening on the other side and let you know if there's any more that you can do."

The teachers nodded and scarpered from the library at an amazing pace. None of them had looked very happy about being the school's first line of defence if the protection charms had been breached and they were all glad to be a safe distance away from the threat. Leo didn't have time to think about it any further though as he took Piper's hand and headed up to the door. "I'll go first," she said, raising a hand in her default 'blowing up' posture and smiling. "Don't do anything stupid."

"I've apparently survived this long," he retorted as he opened the door for her. They stepped over the threshold and onto the landing that split the staircase of the manor in half. Their home wasn't overly recognisable considering that it seemed to have been turned into a warzone since the last time that they had seen it.

Nothing escaped the carnage unscathed. Photo frames, vases, coffee tables, the ill-fated grandfather clock and at least one couch were amongst the many casualties. There were holes in the walls, scorch marks everywhere, and some dark patches that looked suspiciously like blood – and not of the demon variety. Though there were plenty of those running about, alive and well.

Before either Piper or Leo could recover from the shock of seeing their home overrun and in shambles, a dark shape came flying through the air. It thudded into the wall beside them before dropping onto the stairs with a painful cracking sound. The shape groaned and rolled onto its side, and then looked up at them blearily. "Mom?"

"Chris!"

* * *

**The Halliwell Manor – 2027 (30 Minutes Earlier…)**

"Do you need a hand with that?"

Melinda looked up to glare irritably at her older brother, before returning her focus to the potion that was bubbling on the stove before her. It was an incredibly complicated brew that she absolutely _had_ to get right, and Chris was not helping any. "No." She insisted forcefully as she took a pinch of ground toadflax and flicked it into the cauldron.

It promptly exploded.

"By 'no' did you mean 'yes'?" Chris asked with a smirk as Melinda waved her hands over the smoking pot. He leaned back against the kitchen counter with his eyebrows raised.

"Shut up," Melinda snapped back as she grabbed up a handful of sandalwood to throw in as well. She double checked the book she was working from and then sent him another scathing look. "It was meant to do that. That means I'm doing it _right_."

"Sure."

"Hey! I totally aced both Advanced Potion Making and Home Ec so stop with the doubting already!" she said indignantly. Only in a Halliwell household would that sentence make perfect sense.

"Yes, but only just, and only because of my fantastic tutoring… less of the bloodroot," he advised in the middle of his teasing. He knew he really shouldn't be riling her up considering the potion she was making would quite possibly save a lot of lives, including theirs, but he didn't want her to freeze up under pressure and so he was purposely trying to keep things as light as possible.

Things had gotten bad, really fast. After the Ultimate Battle twenty-odd years earlier, demonic activity had pretty much ceased. And then after that Wyatt took over as the defender of good and for a very long time, things had been easy for the whole of the Magical Community. And then a month ago everything had changed.

The demons had started getting bolder. With that boldness had come strength, and for the first time, the vanquishes the new generation of Halliwells had had to do were…_difficult_. There were times when even _Wyatt_ struggled – and that was saying something.

Then as if the sudden power-boost of the demons of their own reality wasn't enough, a horde of dimension jumping, nigh on un-vanquishable, non-exposure-wary demons had appeared out of nowhere and begun terrorizing San Francisco. So far they had managed to keep the Magical world a secret with Darryl Jr.'s help, but their luck would run out soon.

Right now there was an open portal in the middle of Chinatown where Wyatt was singlehandedly holding back the invasion while Darryl had the area cordoned off. Melinda had been tasked with making the potion that they had found that would close the portals, while Chris had been designated her babysitter. She had not been pleased about that.

"Less bloodroot, got it," Melinda huffed as split the plant in half and chucked it in. The explosion it produced was more of a cough than a bang, saving her from ruining the batch of potion. "Any other tips, genius? Maybe you should be the one making this!"

"Can't. Bodyguard, remember?" Chris retorted with a half-smile.

She rolled her eyes. "I don't need you to look after me Chris, it's Wyatt that really needs help right now. You could have just left me in a crystal cage."

"I've already set one around the kitchen," he replied matter-of-factly, pointing at a completely unconcealed gemstone that lay right in her line of sight. "But if those demons show up here, which with our luck, they _will_, how long do you reckon that's gonna hold them off?"

Melinda shrugged. "Fine, but I'm still worried about Wy."

"He's the Twice Blessed Mel," Chris said lightly, though he was just as worried as she was. Sure, their big brother was basically the most powerful being in the world, but these demons weren't from their world, and they didn't seem to like playing by the rules. But if he showed any of that worry it could throw Melinda off and with the potion as their only potential weapon, that couldn't happen. Thankfully she was distracted enough that her telepathy wasn't informing her of all of his doubts. "He's probably enjoying the workout."

She didn't look convinced, but she kept her attention on the potion that would save all of their butts. Ever since she had proven herself when she had helped Wyatt rescue Chris and Sean from the Phoenix a few months ago her overprotective big brothers had finally begun allowing her to become involved in the demon-fighting. Then once she had graduated from Magic School with pretty damn decent grades even her parents had conceded that she was capable of helping. Though there were times like this that made her long for her days of relative obliviousness.

A loud crash sounded from the front room, and both of them snapped to attention.

"Is it them?" Chris whispered to her, and she cocked her head to one side as she reached out with her telepathy.

She nodded, and then her eyes widened in panic. "They know about the potion! How do they…?"

"Relax," Chris cut her off, moving silently to the kitchen door and taking a peek into the dining room and down the entrance hall. He could hear many heavy feet as he imagined a small army of the practically invincible demons marching into their home. Going by sound alone he figured there had to be at least twenty… and even _one_ of these guys was tough to handle. "How long until the potion's ready?"

"Ideally? Half an hour!" Melinda gestured at the book. "But I reckon I can do it ten minutes."

"Okay…" Chris trailed off as he thought over their options. A couple of the demons were cautiously exiting the front room with their weird red energy balls ready in their clawed hands. They were heading towards the kitchen, and the meagre protection of the crystal cage. "Alright… you stay here and work on the potion. I'll hold them off for as long as I can."

"What?! Chris! You can't!" Melinda argued, almost dropping the wrong ingredient into the cauldron and sending them back to square one. "There's too many!"

"I've had worse odds," he shrugged to hide his own fear. He had already figured his chance of winning as being incredibly slim; though thankfully, winning wasn't the intention. And besides, he still had half a year – the bonuses of knowing your sell-by date. "Just hurry up with the potion."

"No pressure," Melinda muttered under her breath as Chris orbed out of the crystal cage. Now she had to make the potion and pray to god that it worked before _both_ of her brothers were killed. "Piece of cake."

Chris rematerialized in the front room, a few metres from the portal that was serving as the demonic front door. It was a vertical pool of grey energy that spun from a black epicentre. As the demons stepped through they initially appeared like a painting that had been left out in the rain, but once they placed a booted foot on solid ground they melted into their normal selves. It wasn't much of an improvement.

They were grey-skinned and hunched over, probably weighed down by their heavily-muscled arms that were tipped with dinosaur-like hands. Their heads and faces were practically human, although their pupils were too large and their lips too thin. As seemed to be the fashion for demons of any dimension, they were clad in leather armour that was adorned with small sharp, pointy weapons, just in case the claws and energy balls weren't enough.

Upon arrival in the front room, Chris got a millisecond to get a rough headcount before being forced to orb out again as more energy balls than he could deflect came barrelling towards him. He reappeared on the same spot and immediately flung out an arm to throw three of the demons off of their feet. He then threw out his left arm, creating a wall of telekinetic energy, and then with both hands shoved it out in front of him. The invisible, yet very solid, force was wide enough to span the entire room, and all of the demonic occupants were knocked down like bowling pins.

It was quite a display of power that logically he should have waited to use as he found himself tiring already. But with these demons basic magic didn't even tickle them. The wave also had the unfortunate side effect of demolishing both the wall that divided the front room in half as well as part of the sunroom. God only knew what the neighbours would think…

But that wasn't his concern right then. Wyatt had long ago created a permanent glamour that would keep their house looking normal from an outside perspective, regardless of how much of the manor was actually left. Unfortunately though, it didn't cover the noise.

The demons he had knocked down were already getting back up as the ones that had ventured deeper into the house returned to investigate what had happened to their brethren. More energy balls came at Chris and he once again orbed out, reappearing on the other side of the room. As the horde re-armed and made to surround him, he telekinetically grabbed the two nearest demons and held them in front of him as a shield. Mercilessly, the demons vanquished their own, leaving the path clear for them to get to him.

But now Chris knew that they _could_ be vanquished. As the next barrage of energy balls were launched he created another wall, smaller than the first, that effectively worked as a shield. The majority of the red orbs collided with the wall and rebounded back at their creators, though more than a few got through. He managed to orb out, but not until _after_ one hit him in the shoulder.

As he reformed behind the couch near the staircase he hissed in pain and spared the injury a glance. A virtually perfect circle of scorched flesh a hand-span wide stretched from his collar bone to his bicep, almost completely immobilizing his right arm. He cursed under his breath as he realised just how bad the disadvantage was, then cursed again when the demons came pouring out of the front room from every exit.

Drained from both the exertion and the pain, he was reduced to orbing out of harm's way as he was forced onto the defensive. He knew he would lose their attention soon, and then they would remember why they were here in the first place and go after Melinda, which most definitely was not going to happen on his watch.

The havoc and destruction wrought by the sheer volume of high-powered energy balls missing their targets was tearing the manor apart. Several of the wayward missiles had collided with the magically protected door to Magic School, which was probably setting off the alarms, but Chris was too busy trying to stay alive to care overly much.

He was surviving by being able to keep his distance for the most part. Thankfully the demons didn't seem to be able to shimmer or teleport in anyway and so he had the advantage in agility and evasion. But there were so damn many of them, and they only ever appeared to multiply rather than dissipate, making it harder and harder to find safe places to rematerialize in – there didn't seem to be a single square-foot of unoccupied space.

Hence why it was unsurprising when he screwed up a landing and ended up right next to a rather pissed-off looking demon. He tried to orb out again before it noticed, but found his partially dematerialised form being seized and tossed, directly into the waiting arms of three of its buddies. Clawed hands dug into his flesh as he struggled and he shouted out in both annoyance and pain. He managed to kick one of them in the head, getting one of his legs and an arm free. He then grabbed one of the thin weapons from the vest of one of the demons and stabbed it through its eye with a sickening pop.

Chris didn't get time to celebrate though before he found himself airborne. The last demon had thrown him like a shot-put, as if the full grown 6ft male didn't weigh a thing, sending him over the remains of the stairs' banister and into the wall. He dropped onto the steps, landing awkwardly on his right hand, his wrist breaking with a snap.

Now everything hurt. His head had collided with the wall, dazing him enough to dull his accumulation of injuries to an all-over ache. Using his good arm he pushed himself onto his side with a groan and surveyed the room through double-vision. The demons had finally grown bored of playing with him like a ragdoll and had moved onto breaking through the crystal cage. The manor was barely recognisable as a building, let alone his childhood home.

But then things got worse.

He turned a little more as he felt a shadow fall over him. He had expected a demon – maybe the one that he had kicked in the head. He was not expecting to see his parents. "Mom?"

"Chris!" Piper cried as she came to kneel beside him, undecided between trying to help him sit up and forcing him to lie down. He made the decision for her as he managed to climb to unsteady feet with minimum support. "Are you alright? What the hell is going on? Where's Wyatt?"

"What are you doing here?" Chris demanded, completely ignoring her questions. He started descending the stairs despite the restraining hands both of his parents laid on him. "You need to go back to Magic School now!"

Piper looked taken aback, but refused to do as she was told. "No, we're not leaving you. I can help." She raised both hands and made the familiar gesture that would have usually frozen the entire room. Except that nothing happened. The demons didn't even seem to register that a Charmed One's magic had even been used and continued their assault on the quickly weakening force field. "Why isn't it working?! What are they?"

"We're handling it!" Chris had to yell over the cacophony of energy balls colliding with the crystal cage wall, though the fact that he was frustrated, in pain, and probably slightly concussed wasn't helping his tone. "Go back to Magic School! I've got to keep them away from Mel and I can't do that if you're…"

"CHRIS!"

The crystal cage chose that moment to disintegrate, and Chris had a split second to decide what to do. Though he wanted to keep his parents safe, he couldn't let the demons get to Melinda and prevent the potion from being finished. He had lost track of time, but it had to be nearly done by now – he just had to keep the demons at bay a little longer. He could do that.

He staggered away from his parents and stood in the centre of the entrance hall. With his surprisingly still-good left arm he made a third and final telekinetic wall between the demons and the kitchen. He then raised both hands; broken wrist, burned shoulder and all, and pulled the wall back towards him. The demons were thrown backwards as if a giant hand had just reached down and swept them to one side. The good news was that they were moving away from the kitchen. The bad news was that they were all heading towards him with frightening speed.

When the closest of the flying demons was less than a metre away from him, Chris let the wall drop and used the last of his energy to orb on the spot so that the tumbling mass of grey flesh had passed before he reformed and dropped to his knees in exhaustion. Too tired to shout, he sent out a mental call - _Mel. Please tell me you're done._

"Yep!" came an excited and relieved yell from behind him and he glanced over his shoulder. He just caught sight of his little sister running through a demolished wall and into the front room, a vial of the highly coveted potion in her hand. Now all they could do was really hope that the damn thing worked as promised.

As the demons began to recover, untangling themselves from the dog-pile that they had landed in, the sound of smashing glass came from the front room. Within seconds a strong wind picked up inside the house, howling through the holes created by the battle and buffeting the manor's rightful occupants. For the demons however, the wind spelled doom. They dissolved into a grey scale version of _The Scream_ as they were sucked back to whatever hell dimension they came from.

Chris let his head drop with a relieved sigh and gave himself a moment to recover. He then attempted to get up, but failed epically. Thankfully Leo had come down the stairs and caught him before he face-planted the floor, and Chris threw him a grateful look. With his father's help he made it back onto his feet, but he figured he wouldn't stay there for very long without Wyatt healing him. "Mel!" he called.

"Did you see that? That was awesome! I just threw the potion and it just slurped them all up! Hah! Oh, hi Mom, Dad." Melinda chattered happily as she came back out of the front room… _through_ the wall. She then caught sight of her brother. "Oh crap! Are you okay?"

Chris rolled his eyes. "Have you got a transportation potion?" he asked, receiving a quick nod in reply as she dug into the shoulder bag that had become a constant accessory since she had become a bona fide demon-hunter. With a distinct lack of offensive or teleportive abilities she had taken to keeping a constant supply of potions on her at all times. "Take the potion to Wy and thank Darryl for saving our asses again."

"You got it." She instantly disappeared as she threw a vial at her feet.

Leo then helped Chris over to the stairs and lowered him down on to a step as he began checking the scary volume of injuries his son had amassed. Piper, on the other hand, was staring at the spot that Melinda had occupied only moments before with an odd expression on her face. It was a mix between shock and joy as the girl's use of the titles 'Mom' and 'Dad' registered. Chris, however, had his eyes closed and didn't see her reaction. When he did open them it looked as if his mother was looking at the mess (understatement) in horror. He winced inwardly.

"I can explain…"

* * *

**Chinatown**

He just needed a minute.

Just one minute. Then he could keep fighting.

Why couldn't he have just one minute? Wyatt sighed in exhaustion as he dragged himself back onto his feet, the force field he had been hiding behind flickering out of life. There were so many of the dimension-jumping demons, and the many vanquishes that he had managed to achieve had barely slowed them down.

He was tired. He had been battling the invaders non-stop for nearly an hour and was barely even serving as a distraction anymore. When the portal had opened he and Chris had set up a barrier around the street to prevent any innocent bystanders from coming in, and any of the demons from getting out. But the magic wasn't infallible and a constant barrage from the horde would probably bring it down, hence why Wyatt had stayed to keep them occupied and contained for as long as possible.

But he couldn't keep it up much longer. The demons were brutal and animalistic in their attacks, and their numbers meant that the assault against their one assailant had been constant. Wyatt had barely had time to breathe since the fight had begun, and the drain was beginning to show.

He had a limited ability to self-heal which required that he stopped every now and again, so when the build-up of small wounds, and some far more serious ones, had become too much, he had been forced to take a brief reprieve. He had crouched down, leaning against the remnants of a shop wall for support, and thrown up his shield to protect himself as he at least slightly recovered.

He still wasn't 100% when he had let the shield drop less than a minute later, but he had lost the demons' attention and they had turned to try and bring down the barrier that was keeping them from the city of juicy Innocents. So Wyatt climbed back to his feet and recommenced the seemingly endless battle.

He had already tried to use his strongest power several times. He had thrown out both arms and watched as the highly destructive wave of golden energy; that usually vanquished any demon it touched instantly, spread out before him. But instead of the satisfactory bursting of dead demons, the horde was simply knocked off of their feet, looking mildly disoriented and increasingly peeved. Wyatt figured out early on that he was better of using his telekinesis than that power as the draining side effects had weakened him significantly.

So now he focused on yanking the demons away from the barrier and hurtling as many sharp objects at them as he could find. With all of his superpowers, Wyatt had never really felt the need to hone his telekinesis like Chris had, and right now he was regretting it. He couldn't throw the demons as far as his brother could, and he didn't have the control or aim to get multiple flying objects to hit their targets. But he was holding his own, and successfully getting the demons to return their attention to him. Now he just had to keep it.

He got his wish as ten of the demons all turned on him simultaneously, red energy balls in hand. He threw up a force field in front of him and was rewarded with the fizzling sound of them dissipating on contact. But while he had been distracted by the attack from the front, another of the demons came at him from behind, throwing another energy ball at his exposed back. His reflexes weren't fast enough as the attack hit its mark and sent him plummeting to the ground, his shield gone.

For a moment the world went black as his head hit concrete, but thankfully a survival instinct and a good shot of adrenaline kept him from completely passing out. He blinked open bleary eyes to see several sets of booted feet coming to surround him. He attempted to push himself upright again, but his back complained at the movement and his arms buckled beneath him. One of the demons kicked him in the ribs, rolling him onto his side with a pained grunt. He tried the muster the strength to create a force field, but there was barely a flicker of blue before his strength left him completely.

_So much for Twice Blessed…_ he thought to himself as several more of the demons got in a few good kicks. Maybe it was a little arrogant, but he couldn't believe that he had been beaten. He was meant to be the most powerful force of good ever to have existed, and yet a few portals open around town and suddenly he's reduced to weak and powerless. That wasn't how it was meant to be.

"WYATT!"

He looked up at the shout, concern for his newly materialised little sister trumping the overwhelming desire to close his eyes and sleep. He didn't like the fact that she was alone and that her panicked shout had drawn the demon's attention away from beating him and onto her. "Mel…?" he croaked. He wanted to yell at her to get out of there, but he simply didn't have the strength. He watched as she seemed to realise that the demons were coming for her and she pulled out a potion vial from her shoulder bag. Wyatt really hoped it was the transportation potion that would take her home, but instead of throwing it at her feet she spun on the spot and bowled the small bottle at the spiralling grey portal.

Instantly the dimensional door inverted, its black epicentre turning white as it began to spin back the other way. All around them the demons began to melt as if their skeletons had been liquidised and sucked back into the portal.

The potion actually worked.

With the portal closed, Melinda immediately ran to her brother's side and skidded onto her knees. She reached a tentative hand towards the hole that had been blasted into his back, but then retracted it back as a familiar golden glow formed around it and knitted the scorched skin back together. "Are you alright?" she asked as she helped him sit upright.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied with a nod as a cut on his forehead magically healed itself as well. "Just a little tired is all. We should let Darryl know that Chinatown is safe again." He looked around at the damage that the epic fight had created. "Do you mind clearing up while I take down the barrier?"

"Sure, but be quick," Melinda replied as they both climbed back to their feet in the middle of the disaster zone. "Chris didn't look too good when I left. I left him with Mom and Dad," Wyatt winced at the mention of their parents. They had yet to tell them about the demons, not wanting them to know how much danger their children had been in fighting them. "Yeah, they decided to come home five minutes after another portal opened in the front room. The manor looks like a bomb hit it."

"Great," Wyatt muttered as he headed over to the barrier and laid a hand on the invisible wall. Behind him he vaguely heard Melinda recite Aunt Paige's vanishing spell that they had all long ago committed to memory, returning the street to its pre-epic-demon-battle state. With Chinatown back to rights he muttered a few words in an ancient language and the barrier disappeared. Darryl Jr. was waiting on the other side with a walkie talkie in hand. "All clear."

Darryl Jr. nodded and spoke a few quick commands into the walkie before turning back to his childhood friend. "You look like hell man."

"Thanks," Wyatt said with an eye-roll earning a smirk from Darryl Jr. "Seriously though, thanks for helping us out again. We owe you one."

"Actually, by this point you owe me way more than just one," Darryl Jr. retorted with a grin. "But I guess you guys saving the world on a regular basis will just have to be payment enough. But I still gotta go and try and explain all of this to the Chief."

"Sorry," Wyatt apologised, rubbing the back of his neck. The pair of them said their goodbyes and Wyatt headed back to where Melinda was waiting patiently for her lift back home. Apparently she had only had one transportation potion on her… which wouldn't have boded well if the potion hadn't of worked. He made a note to scold her later and then offered his hand. "Let's go try and explain this to Mom."

The pair of them disintegrated into twin columns of orbs and rematerialized in the front room. Someone had said the vanishing spell while they were gone as the manor was back to rights and even tidier than it usually was. Melinda led the way to where their parents were still hovering around Chris who had yet to move from where Leo had sat him on the stairs, cradling his broken wrist to his chest. "About time," he muttered petulantly.

Wyatt rolled his eyes and knelt down to heal his little brother. Once the golden glow dispersed Chris immediately began flexing his hand and rotated his shoulder experimentally. It always was a weird sensation to go from seriously injured to right as rain in less than a minute, no matter how many times it had happened. "Thanks."

"So, does someone want to tell us what all of that was?" Leo asked with raised eyebrows, looking between his two grown sons. Piper had taken to staring at Melinda with the same expression of contented astonishment as earlier. Melinda was looking at her curiously in return, her head cocked slightly to one side. Chris and Wyatt shared a look as they tried to come up with the best way of wording their excuses.

Thankfully, Melinda beat them to it. "You're not my Mom."

"Huh?" All four of her family members said in unison.

"Well, not yet anyway," Melinda corrected, though the confused expressions on her brother's faces didn't change. "Well, I wasn't born in 2004, was I? And that's where they're from. They used that time travel spell and ended up a lot further forward than they had intended."

"How do you…?" Leo asked, dumbfounded.

"She's a telepath, you get used to it," Chris explained offhandedly. Only in their family could 'time-travelling parents' be believed with the minimum of explanation. "So what are you doing here?"

Piper and Leo shared a look as a silent conversation passed between them. He shrugged in an 'it wasn't my idea' gesture, and Piper sighed irritably. "We have been having a few… _issues_ following your father's recent fall from grace. Our marriage counsellor said that we should look to the future. So we did."

"I am so using this the next time I get a personal gain lecture," Wyatt smirked, earning a glare from both of his parents.

"Wait, wait," Chris interrupted as his brow furrowed. "That isn't right. They didn't sort out their issues by time-travel, they worked it out when Wy shrunk them and locked them in the doll's house while Zankou took over the Manor, remember?"

His siblings just shrugged. "How do you recall all of the stories that Mom and the Aunts used to tell us on demand? It's kind of creepy," Melinda said as she wrinkled her nose. "First Wyatt being summoned to the past because of an invisible demon friend and now this? Weird."

"Wyatt was summoned to the past?" Piper asked. "By who?"

"You," Wyatt answered. "It happened a few months ago, though apparently it hasn't happened yet." He paused, confused by his own statement. "Wait, did that make sense?"

"Time travel, it'll make your head spin," Chris quipped with a smirk. He then glared up at the ceiling as the annoyingly familiar jingle of the Elder's rang in his head. He decisively ignored them and turned back to their parents. "We should probably send you back before you find out even more stuff that you shouldn't know and change too much." Piper made to object while Leo threw her an 'I told you so' look. "Did you memorise the Return spell or do we have to write one?"

Melinda grabbed a hold of Chris's arm and looked up at him puppy-dog eyes. "Can't they stay just a little while longer please, please, please, please, please? I never get to be a part of the time-travel stuff!"

The jingle sounded again and Melinda raised her eyebrows. She could hear it just as clearly as he could and knew that he would be summoned soon if he didn't answer and wouldn't get a say on the whole situation. "Fine. But remember that they don't know that we know so clearly they don't tell us and if they do it could change everything and as much as I would like for some things to not have happened they have to happen, okay?"

"I think that's the longest sentence I have ever heard you say," Melinda said in mock-shock and then broke into a wide grin. The jingle sounded a third time, even more impatiently than before. "Now go, the Elders are calling you."

"I'm ignoring them."

"Uh-huh. And who's patience do you think is going to run out first?" she pointed out with raised eyebrows. Piper and Leo shared a look as they watched the exchange, enjoying seeing the son that they had only ever witnessed as broken or less than a year old happy and bantering. And young Melinda was such a perfect miniature of her mother that neither of her parents could wait to make and meet her baby-self.

"Yours, apparently."

Melinda sighed impatiently. "The jingle is giving me a headache. Now go before it becomes a migraine."

"Fine," he looked pointedly at both of his siblings, knowing that neither of them were the greatest secret keepers on the planet. "But remember, no telling them about _that_." And with that he orbed out of the Manor and disappeared. Melinda and Wyatt then immediately turned to their past-parents and said in unison:

"We know about the bad timeline."

* * *

**Elderland**

Chris rematerialized in the clouds of eternal whiteness that made up the entirety of 'Up There' a little shaky on his feet. He gave his head a quick shake to clear the dizziness, putting the weird sensation down to the abrupt change in altitude.

Re-balanced he headed out of the main hall and down the corridor that would take him to the council room where he knew a group of impatient Elders were waiting for him. As he came up upon a grand door covered in intricate carvings he didn't bother knocking. He just walked straight in; ignoring the irritated glares he received from the rude interruption, and came to a stop in the centre of the room. A semi-circle of six Elders took up half the space like a panel of judges in a court of law. "So, what couldn't wait then?"

"Christopher," Sandra greeted warmly from her seat in the middle to the right. Beside her Odin visibly huffed at her pleasant tone – he had long ago lost the patience to deal with the Halliwells. "We apologise for taking you away from your family at such an inopportune time, but we have important issues to discuss."

"We know of your agreement with the Angels of Destiny," Odin cut right to the point. "We were informed in order to help guide you this year. However, it has come to our attention that you have strayed from the path."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Chris asked, confused. For one, it hadn't really been an 'agreement', that would imply that he had actually had another option; and for another what was this path that he apparently needed guiding along? He had half a year until he died – where else was he meant to go?

Another Elder spoke up, a dark-skinned man with friendly eyes wrinkled with laughter lines. "You and your younger sister's continuous attempts to change your fate have been distracting you from your other duties," he said matter-of-factly. "It was not until _after_ the demonic invaders had already begun their incursion that you and your siblings reacted, although we had been giving you warnings long before then. Today magic was almost exposed to the mortal populace, all because you had not been attentive enough to prevent the attacks beforehand."

"_What?"_ Chris demanded indignantly. "What warnings? That 'gathering storm' crap? You realise you've been telling me that every other week since the first time I orbed up here right?"

"Christopher…" Sandra said placating. "It is true that as the children of the Charmed Ones you have received a lot of warnings about a lot of threats, but this time it was different. This time it was close, too close. Closer than The Powers That Be prophesized. You and your siblings were meant to discover and eliminate the threat long before you did. It has us worried."

Odin rolled his eyes. "Worried is an understatement. You realise that your very existence has the potential to throw the Grand Design irrevocably off balance. Your decisions and actions this year will have a far greater effect on the world and the future, which is why we were given the task of guiding you…"

"Controlling me, you mean," Chris interrupted, folding his arms across his chest.

"Yes," Odin admitted. He sighed heavily as he shifted his tone to something a little more empathetic. "Everyone present has died at least once, and we all know that it is not the most pleasant of experiences. We understand _why_ you are trying to avoid your fate, but we can also see the bigger picture. We don't know why, and we don't know how, but we know that your death is inevitable. And so do you."

"There is something coming," Sandra warned, drawing Chris's attention. "A darkness that no one can see through or past. We are not purposely trying to be cryptic, that is simply all that we know. There is a void in the future that coincides with the time of your fate, and it seems more than likely that the two are connected."

"Well that's just great," Chris muttered sullenly. "Any more depressing news for me?"

"You have many trials ahead of you," Odin answered, most definitely going out of his way to be as cryptic as possible as if to spite his colleague's statement. Chris rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh

"Fantastic."

And with that he orbed out of the heavens and back down to earth. Upon arrival in the Manor's kitchen, however, he stumbled. He grabbed a hold of the counter for support as the world suddenly began spinning around him. His hands began to shake as he squeezed his eyes shut to try and stop the dizziness.

After what could have been a minute or possibly longer, he slowly reopened his eyes. What he saw made his knees buckle beneath him.

Before him he saw a younger version of himself holding his dead mother's body; sobbing, begging and praying that she would wake up. The real Chris watched in shock from where he leaned against the counter, his breath coming out in shallow gasps. He stared, hearing his own grief and pleas that fell entirely on deaf ears.

Finally, he could watch no more and closed his eyes, covering them with his free hand. The voice stopped not long after and he worked up the courage to look again. The kitchen was exactly how it was meant to be. No blood, no death, no pain; just the mess of leftover potion ingredients from Melinda's earlier activities. Chris fought to bring his breathing back under control as he pulled himself back to his feet, the wooziness from before dulling to a constant headache behind his eyes.

"What the hell was that?" he muttered to himself as he looked down at his still shaking hands. Even when the two timelines had been a confusing jumble of images in his head, he had never had a flashback like that before. And he had never seen her death before. That memory was too repressed, too deeply buried. And yet it had just played out before him vividly. "Am I losing it…?"

It wouldn't have been all that surprising considering the horror movie that had been one of his lives. There had been many times when he had thought that he had finally cracked; that he had reached the point where he simply just couldn't take anymore, but that was when he had been living that nightmare. Now they were just memories of a timeline that technically had never happened. He had no right to fall apart now.

_I'm probably just tired_ he told himself as he rubbed a hand across his face. In the battle earlier he had pushed himself a lot further than he was used to. The exertion was probably just messing with his head. As he pulled his hand away he caught sight of a long scratch on his forearm. He tried to remember how it had happened, but couldn't. He shook his head as he ignored the minor wound and then left the kitchen, quite thankful that no one else had witnessed that miniature breakdown.

He heard his family's voices coming from the front room so he headed that way, but the moment that he crossed the threshold the room fell silent. All four of its occupants turned to look at Chris with an eclectic array of expressions ranging from guilt to apprehension. He sighed heavily.

"Okay. Who spilled?"

Both Wyatt and Melinda pointed at each other as if they were children and Chris rolled his eyes. Sometimes he wondered if _he_ was the older sibling with their levels of maturity. He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms. "Whatever. We need to get Mom and Dad back to their own time before they learn _even_ _more, _so let's…"

He trailed off as suddenly Aunt Paige and Phoebe appeared in their funeral clothes staring sadly at a portrait of their recently deceased sister, tears streaming down their faces.

"Chris? Chris, are you alright?" his mother's voice broke through, and he blinked until the illusion disappeared. He turned to see four people giving him concerned looks and internally groaned. He tried to give them a relatively convincing half-smile to reassure them that he was fine, but he knew that it was unlikely to work. "You look like you've seen a ghost," Piper said as she got up and placed a hand on his forehead to feel his temperature. "You're burning up honey."

"I'm fine," Chris insisted, knocking his mother's hand away. "Don't change the subject. You and Dad have got to go back, so do you know the Return spell?"

Piper nodded, though she didn't seem to be buying his assertions of good health. "Of course we do, we learned our mistake the last time we used the spell, but I don't think we should be leaving right now…"

"Piper, honey," Leo stood up and came and stood next to her. "Chris is right. We shouldn't have come here in the first place. We need to get home. We've got some mistakes to fix."

"_Don't worry, Chris. I'll get the demon that did this…"_

Chris physically jumped at the voice as he turned to see the teenaged version of his big brother standing next to him. Aunt Phoebe and Paige had reappeared, along with a whole roomful of mourning guests all dressed entirely in black. The younger Chris that was standing beside the teen-Wyatt looked up at his brother with scared eyes.

"_How Wy? I can't remember what happened! How will you know which demon did it?"_

"_Don't worry, little bro, I have my ways." _

"Chris?" Piper called again, reaching out towards her son who had just completely spaced out, staring at the empty space beside him. He had gotten increasingly pale from the moment he had entered and as she grabbed his bare arm she could feel just how clammy his skin was. "Chris!"

"_I'm sorry Wy… for saying that it was you… I…"_ young Chris shifted awkwardly as he stared at the floor as if it had just become the most riveting thing in the world. _"I was just so confused…"_

In the real world Melinda and Wyatt had come to surround their brother as well. It was as if he was frozen, he was so still. Wyatt clicked his fingers in front of Chris's face to try and snap him out of it, but as expected, it did nothing. He looked to his little sister, who was staring at Chris with narrowed eyes and her head cocked to one side. "I can't read him," she said dejectedly. "I keep hitting a wall."

"_It's okay, I understand Chris," _young Wyatt said as he placed a hand on Chris's shoulder. _"What you saw… it must have been horrible. Your mind was just playing tricks on you, making you see something even worse…"_

"CHRIS!" Piper practically yelled, her voice rising in panic. It had the desired effect though as Chris's eyes snapped towards her. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion for a moment before the dizzy spell hit and made him weak in the knees. Both Leo and Wyatt caught him and kept him from hitting the deck. "What's wrong with him?"

No one knew the answer. All that they could do was wait until the dizziness past and Chris looked up at them through bleary eyes. He looked from one worried face to the next as his increasingly fuddled brain tried to fathom out what was going on. "What the hell just happened?"

"You just completely zoned out on us," Melinda explained and then turned to her slightly bigger brother. "Maybe you should try healing him?"

Wyatt nodded and reached out a hand that instantly began to glow gold. But then he shook his head in confusion. "There's nothing to heal."

"Well, what about that then?" Melinda pointed to the scratch on Chris's arm that no one had noticed before. Wyatt once again tried to heal it, but his power had absolutely no effect on the minor wound. "That's weird."

"We should go check the Book of Shadows," Piper suggested as Leo and Wyatt hauled Chris back to his feet. He wavered for a moment so Wyatt kept his grip on his brother's arm.

"No, you and Dad should go back home," Chris retorted half-heartedly, knowing his argument was beginning to lose substance. It was pretty clear that something was seriously wrong with him; the growing headache and dizziness, and the delusions, were a testament to that, but he could only deal with one problem at a time and his time-travelling parents were not helping matters.

Piper raised her eyebrows incredulously. "What, so I can go back and look after your baby-self while wondering for the next twenty-three years whether or not you're going to be alright? Yeah, that's gonna happen," she finished sarcastically, getting a sigh of compliance in reply. "Now, Wyatt, orb your brother up to the attic, he doesn't look like he can walk it."

"I'm right here you know," Chris muttered with an eye-roll as he and Wyatt disintegrated into orbs. As they reappeared in the attic however, his attitude was completely gone. His headache spiked and he covered his eyes with a hand, the other one gripping his brother's arm for support, he could feel Wyatt's concern but couldn't hear his anxious questions over the roaring in his ears. "I don't feel so good…" he admitted weakly, before dropping like a dead-weight.

"Chris!" Wyatt yelled as he once again caught his brother and lowered him to the floor as he began shaking violently. He knew it was pointless, but he automatically held out a hand to try and heal Chris, though as expected it didn't work. He heard footsteps coming up the stairs "Help!"

Leo appeared through the door first and came and skidded down beside his sons. "What happened?"

"I don't know! He just dropped and started shaking and I can't fix it!" Wyatt answered, beginning to babble as he panicked. He watched as his father began examining Chris, reminding them all that before a life of magic he had been a doctor. He reassessed the un-healable wound on Chris's arm that was beginning to turn a funny colour and frowned. "What is it? What's wrong with him?"

"I…I think he's been… poisoned," Leo deduced uncertainly. Immediately Piper was up and flicking through the Book, desperately trying to find anything and everything that they knew about poisons, but most importantly, their cures. Leo nodded at Aunt Pearl's couch and Wyatt helped him carry a still-shaking Chris over to it. "I don't think that we have a lot of time…"

"There has got to be something," Piper hissed as she flipped through the pages angrily. Melinda came and stood beside her, feeling incredibly useless.

"It must have been the demons," Wyatt muttered as he watched his little brother's face scrunch up in pain. "That was the only time that he could have gotten hurt…"

Piper huffed. "Unless the Elders did it, which to be honest wouldn't surprise me."

"Piper…" Leo said warningly. No one there was exactly one of the Elders greatest fans, but he highly doubted that they would ever do something like this. Accusing them when she knew that they could most likely hear her maybe wasn't the smartest move. He turned to their son "What do you know about the demons?"

Wyatt shrugged. "Not a whole lot. They're from a completely different dimension, and no, they're not in the Book. Our powers are basically useless against them and they only seem to be vanquishable with their own weapons."

"You saw them," Melinda added helpfully. "They looked like dinosaurs in leather pants with their massive claws and scaly skin," she tilted her head thoughtfully. "You know, I always found it weird how they always had those vests of little blades despite the fact that they clearly didn't need them…"

"You think they might've been what poisoned him?" Piper asked as she paused in her assault on their family heirloom.

"There's one way to find out." Wyatt stated determinedly as he orbed out.

"Where did he go?"

Melinda sighed long-sufferingly. "He just orbed down to the kitchen to grab the book that we got the portal-closing potion from to see if he can reverse it and go battle the demons in their own dimension and snag us one of those little knife thingies," she explained. "He does that. The whole 'orb first, figure it out later' thing."

"Will he be alright, against the demons?" Piper asked, remembering how hard she had seen Chris had to fight just to hold them at bay. She had never seen him use his powers like that and had been quite impressed by the display; he had never done anything like that while he had stayed with them in the past.

Melinda nodded. "If anyone can do it, Wyatt can. He's the Twice Blessed after all, as everyone keeps reminding us." She gestured at the Book. "Did you find anything?"

"I've got a few spells we can try, but to be honest…" Piper trailed off.

"Alright," Melinda said decisively, taking charge now that both of her big brothers' were effectively AWOL. Technically it was her mother that she should have been turning to, but past-Piper was out of her time and after years of _her_ Piper being retired, Melinda was used to handling things on her own. "Magic School is probably our best bet for answers, so I'll head there now and start researching. Mom, you stay here and work with what you got while Dad looks after Chris. I'll set up a crystal cage just in case anything happens while I'm gone, okay?"

Both of her parents nodded, and once she had put the crystals in place she followed her own orders and left. Piper and Leo gazed proudly at the space the young woman had just occupied, and then shared a look with each other.

"We have the best kids ever."

* * *

_It was dark._

_Chris didn't know if it was the pain that stole the light away, or if there was simply no light on in the room, but either way, he was surrounded by darkness. It reflected his thoughts, his mood, and his depression. As far as he was concerned, nothing would ever be light again. Not now that _she_ was gone._

_He was fourteen years old, he had been for two weeks now, and yet he had never felt younger or more vulnerable in his life. He sat on the floor in the corner of the room, his back to the wall and his knees drawn to his chest as he stared unseeingly at the darkness. He was at his Grandpa's house. He hadn't been back to the Manor since that night, except for the funeral, and he had no intention of ever going there again._

_His thoughts circled in an endless cycle of misery and self-doubt. He remembered that night, vividly, but at the same time, he couldn't recall a thing. _

_It had been his birthday – that much he knew for sure. It was after the party, his Aunts and Uncles, cousins and Grandpa had all left, and it was just him and _her_ in the house. She had been upset, angry, because once again Dad hadn't shown up, but it was more than that. Wyatt hadn't been there either. And that was where it began to get all hazy, but at the same time, crystal clear. _

_Wyatt had shown up, late, covered in dirt and soot, having been in the Underworld again, despite her constant nagging that he shouldn't be down there alone. The two of them had gotten into an argument. It had been loud and intense, and escalated out of control so fast that Chris had struggled to keep up. He had been standing in the corner of the kitchen, watching helplessly, his attempts to intercede and calm them down going ignored as the shouting reached fever pitch._

_And then Wyatt… no, a demon… or a warlock… or Mr Hopkins his biology teacher… no, it was definitely a demon…_

_Chris shook his head as several different people materialised in his memory and took turns in stabbing his mother through the chest. Every single scenario, no matter how ridiculous, felt so real that it became impossible to discern which one had been the perpetrator. He simply couldn't remember what had happened – and yet at the same time he could, but couldn't tell which memory was true…_

"_Chris…?" came his Grandpa's careful voice as the door to the room was opened a crack. A beam of light sliced the room in half as the hallway light invaded through the gap. Chris ignored him. Ignored the light that came with him. He was too busy trying to sort out his own mind to pay attention. "Chris… it's been two weeks now. You can't keep going like this. You need to talk…"_

_Despite his age and the creaking of his bones, Victor Bennet came and sat down on the floor beside his grieving grandson, concealing all the pain that the movement caused him. Chris didn't spare him a look. He just kept staring, straight ahead. His grandpa sighed. "You don't have to talk about what happened. But please, just say something."_

_But Chris was lost in his own head. He was sitting on the kitchen floor, cradling his mother's dying body, yelling for someone to help her. She was saying something; her lips moving as a whisper of sound managed to escape her. But what she said didn't make sense._

"It was an accident, Peanut… he didn't mean to… Please… help him… Bring him home…"

_Who was she talking about? Where did Wyatt go? Why didn't he heal her? And why could Chris remember Wyatt being the one that had killed her? It didn't make sense!_

"_Chris, please," his Grandpa was close to begging now, gently shaking his shoulder to try and garner his attention. Silent tears ran down wrinkled cheeks as his voice took on a pleading tone. "Chris… P-Pi… your mo… she's gone. We lost her. I can't just sit here and watch as I lose you too. Please. Please talk to me."_

_Without moving a muscle, not even blinking his dry eyes or breaking his staring contest with the darkness, Chris spoke. "I-I don't kn-know what h-happened…" _

"_Chris…?" Victor asked uncertainly, both confused and overjoyed at his grandson's words. He hadn't said a word to him since that night. Wyatt had orbed in holding a sobbing Chris and declared in an emotionless voice that their mother was dead. Ever since, Wyatt had been absent and cold while Chris had been a silent introvert locked up in his own mind. _

"_I k-keep trying to r-remember…" he continued as if his Grandpa had never spoken, still staring, his voice hoarse from lack of use. "…but it k-keeps ch-changing… Am I… Am I going c-crazy…?"_

_Chris finally blinked and turned his head slightly to face his Grandpa. Victor pulled him into a hug, resting his chin on his grandson's head as he muttered reassurances. "No, no of course not Chris. You're just a little confused. But it's going to be alright, we'll figure this out together. You're not alone."_

_At least, not yet._

* * *

**This chapter turned out to be a lot longer than I thought it would so I've had to split it in half! The good news is that the next part is only a couple thousand words off finished, so you wont have too long to wait for the conclusion :P (It will be the quickest update this fic's ever had…)**

**Please Review!**


	6. Prison of the Mind

**Charmed -:- Borrowed Time**

**Episode Summary: **

**(Part Two of Two) **The parents from the past work together with their grown children to save a dying Chris before time runs out. Meanwhile, the poison works its magic and traps the young Witchlighter in a prison of painful memories – can they beat the clock that's counting down to his end?

**Author's Note(s):**

As promised, a quick update to finish what I have decided is the mid-season finale! Thanks to lizardmomma for reviewing - you are highly awesome for leaving a comment every chapter! :P And to locksleylass: I had had no idea before yesterday that Melinda was such a disliked character, I was just going with the canon when I popped her into this fic, but I'm glad I've done an okay job! I hoper everyone likes this chap as well :D

* * *

/a

**Six -:- Prison of the Mind**

**The Halliwell Manor**

Potion-making was not Wyatt Halliwell's forte.

Sure, he had been taught by his mother who was a culinary genius, and sure, he had aced Advanced Potion-making at Magic School, but it still wasn't his strong suit. He was far better at the hunting and the vanquishing rather than the more mundane aspects of his Wiccan heritage.

Hence why it was several attempts in before he had a potion worth testing. It had taken a few explosions and a couple of batches reduced to black ash, but finally, he was pretty sure that he had made what he was after. A potion that would re-open and reverse the directionality of an inter-dimensional portal. In his defence, it was a tricky potion to make without a recipe to work from.

He grabbed two vials and filled them with the jade liquid – one to get him there, and one to get him back. He abandoned the mess that he had made of his mother's kitchen and went into the living room. Melinda had told him that this was where the portal had opened before and short of getting Darryl Jr. to re-cordon off Chinatown, it was his best bet of his potion working. He cast out his senses to find the slight ripple that a portal left behind, and then threw a vial.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Patience running thin as he thought of his brother relying on him upstairs, Wyatt kicked the couch in frustration. He wasn't good at the whole 'sitting around and doing nothing' thing, he was far too proactive and restless for that. This potion, this crazy idea that he could somehow just waltz into enemy territory and get the very thing that would save Chris's life, had been his way of helping. Okay, so he wasn't 100% sure that these demons were responsible, and sure, his plan did sound just a touch crazy, but it was better than waiting by his brother's side and watching him die.

But that was only if the damn potion worked. He waited a second longer, and then spun on his heel, giving the couch another good kick as he headed back towards the kitchen for take 2.

It was just as he was stepping through the door that a breeze picked up behind him. He turned warily, watching and praying that it was his potion that was working, and not the demons coming back for another round. Slowly, a small white circle appeared in mid-air above the coffee table, growing into a vertical cyclone. Eventually an inverted version of the portal that brought the demons into their world stood ready and waiting in the middle of the Manor.

And that was when apprehension finally gripped Wyatt. He was nervous and… _scared_.

He had never felt fear before. At least not for his own safety. He was the Twice Blessed, all powerful and practically invincible, and yet just that morning he had come face to face with his own mortality. He had been beaten, reduced to nothing but a weak shell, saved only by his sister's fantastic timing. And now he was about to step into a dimension quite possibly full of the demons that had kicked his ass.

"I must be insane."

He closed his eyes, curling his hands into fists as he tried to psych himself up. He quelled his doubts as he thought of his brother, remembering the pain on Chris's face and the helplessness he had felt when he had just collapsed. Wyatt was the strongest and toughest person on this side of the war. He was the only one that stood a chance of succeeding. He needed to stop acting like a baby and live up to his damn reputation.

Resolved to his plan, Wyatt took a deep breath and stepped through the portal. He felt himself being ripped apart; though he wouldn't describe the experience as painful, as he was divided into his component parts. A world of grey spun uncontrollably around him as he was propelled forcefully forward. The process took maybe a second, but it felt considerably longer in the disorientating mass.

When he stepped out the other side he was overwhelmed by the urge to throw himself on the floor and thank every deity he knew of for the existence of solid ground. However, the impulse was firmly extinguished when he caught sight at what he had just stepped into.

"Oh shit."

* * *

"_This, ladies and gentlemen, is what we impoverished people like to call, 'the jackpot'."_

_Chris rolled his eyes at Jake's declaration, and then returned his attention to keeping watch. It had been a big risk coming into this territory to pilfer supplies, but they were getting desperate. He was nineteen years-old now and a leader of the Resistance that he had helped to build against his brother. _

"_I never thought I would be so happy to see a crate of sardines!" Prue beamed happily, staring dreamily at the box in question before throwing a look over her shoulder to grin at her cousin. Chris gave her a half-smile in return, the muscles in his face unaccustomed to anything but his emotionless mask. Her smile faltered at his expression, but then lit up again when she saw another prize. "Heather – is that…?"_

"_Toilet paper!" a brunette finished with an excited squeal as she bounded over to the mountain of loo-rolls. She ripped one out of its cellophane and rubbed it lovingly against her cheek like something out of an old TV ad. "You know, sometimes I wish that I could go back in time and warn my past-self to start hording this stuff!"_

"_If only," Jake scoffed as he wandered back out from behind a massive pile of boxes with a smirk on his face. He came to stand beside Chris, adjusting the rifle he had slung over his shoulder. "How comes we never thought of raiding the docks before?"_

_Chris sighed impatiently. "Because if the gang that patrols this place finds us here they are going to riddle us with bullet holes?"_

"_Oh," Heather muttered dejectedly, returning the toilet paper to its packaging. Immediately the mood in the warehouse changed as all of the intruders suddenly returned to being on guard and wary. "Forgot about that…"_

"_So if we could please make this quick, and above all else, _silent_ please?" Chris continued as if Heather hadn't spoken. He felt bad for raining on the first happy moment his little group of renegades had had in such a long time, but they couldn't afford to not be careful, not in this cruel world that they now found themselves in. He gestured at Jake "Keep watch on the door. Eric," he called a nearby bearded blonde who was rifling through an aid box from China, "Go wait with the trucks and be ready to move the moment you get the signal."_

_Eric nodded, brushing past Jake and Chris as he left the warehouse, not looking overly pleased about being reassigned away from the goldmine that they had found. "Start loading," he told the rest of those gathered there "and remember; necessities only."_

"_Aye, aye captain!" Prue retorted with light sarcasm, complete with mock salute. The two of them were all that was left of the Halliwell line, though technically Leo was still around somewhere and Wyatt… well, Wyatt was kind of the problem. _Everyone else was gone_. Chris turned away as that thought hit him hard, and then just started walking. "Wait, where are you going?"_

_He didn't turn at his cousin's voice, he was too caught up in the pain that had just come out of nowhere and threatened to drown him. But after years of lying and pretending that everything was fine, an excuse sprung from his lips without any conscious thought on his part. "I'm gonna keep an eye on the access road, work as an early warning."_

_He didn't see the concern flicker across Prue's face as her empathy picked up on his stray emotions. Not long ago, Paige had been killed by a Darklighter faction. She had been the last Charmed One standing and had been the person that he and Prue had relied on after their own mothers had died. Then Grandpa had passed on not long after, the lung cancer finally taking him after years of suffering. Halliwell's were dropping like flies. Soon, there would be no more left._

_Though his lie had merely been an excuse, he ended up walking along the access road anyway, leaving the warehouse behind him. He knew that it had been a bad time to leave the group. It was crucial that this mission succeeded. The whole area was fraught with danger. But he couldn't let them see him when he was having one of his miniature breakdowns. He couldn't let them see him weak. He couldn't let Prue feel just how broken he was inside. He had to be strong and he had to be in control. And that meant that he had to be alone._

_A scuffle sounded nearby, instantly putting him on alert. He scanned the area, trying to pinpoint where the sound had come from, but there was nothing to see. Before him was the ruins of San Francisco, behind him was the dark waters of the bay. He was in the middle of a sea of weather-worn warehouses where silence reigned. But he knew that he had heard a noise._

_An engine suddenly rumbled to life, making him flinch at the abrupt interruption of the stillness. He glanced over his shoulder, confirming that the truck that had been started up had been one of their own. They had brought three with them; it was all the fuel that they could afford to use. It would have to be enough to carry all the supplies that they needed._

_And then he heard voices and footsteps. He had trained the resistance too well to give themselves away like that, so it couldn't be them. And besides it was coming from ahead of him, not behind. Without hesitation he stealthily hid out of sight behind the burnt-out remnants of a pick-up. He waited as the voices got louder and closer, until eventually the owners became visible. _

_There were six of them. All armed. And heading towards the warehouse that the Resistance was currently raiding._

Shit.

_Chris wasn't sure if they knew that they were being robbed; they didn't seem to be in much of a hurry, but they could just have been biding their time. What he did know though, was that if they got much closer, they could open fire on the warehouse, killing everyone inside before they even knew that they were being attacked. _Prue.

_There wasn't a whole lot of logic going on when Chris stepped out of his hiding place. Usually overly-meticulous and just a tad neurotic, he wasn't prone to improvised acts of valour. All he was thinking was that his cousin, the one person that he had left, was in that warehouse, unaware and vulnerable. He couldn't lose her. He couldn't be the last one. So he purposely stepped on a glass bottle, effectively drawing all six pairs of eyes to him. As well as the barrel of six guns._

"_Who the hell are you?" one of them demanded, jabbing his shotgun at Chris._

_Another one jeered "Does it really matter? He's dead meat anyway."_

"_Can't have us a trespasser now, can we?" the man with the biggest gun grunted._

_As they discussed the best method of killing him, Chris mentally recited a spell and gave his hand a slight flick. Somewhere in the warehouse a red flag had just appeared out of thin air and floated to the ground. Anyone who saw it would know what it meant. _Danger. Go._ It was a spell that he had written not long after forming the Resistance, a low-magic warning system that didn't draw the unwanted attention of one of Wyatt's probes._

_Knowing that Prue and the others would be safe now; Chris just had to figure out how he was going to survive the firing squad in front of him. Once upon a time he could have just orbed away – magic was already exposed after all, but now he couldn't. Wyatt could sense when anyone orbed, particularly Chris, and so with the help of the last of the Elders, he had had his Whitelighter half bound years ago. They had clipped his wings, leaving him as a simple telekinetic witch. It had been necessary, but it wasn't helping him right now._

_He could make the first move. They were only human. He could kill them all with barely a thought._

_But he was a Halliwell, and as such lived by the rules his mother had instilled on him growing up. He couldn't hurt an Innocent, even if the adjective didn't quite match the noun. He could run – probably getting a bullet in the back in the process. But that wouldn't buy the rest of his team the time they needed to get out with the supplies. So he faced his firing squad, and prayed._

_There were smirks and grins all around as the triggers were pulled on all six weapons simultaneously. Chris barely had time to raise his hand, grateful when he felt the familiar warmth of his magic obeying him, catching as many of the bullets as he could. The goons didn't get a chance to register what had just happened before their own ammunition was thrown back at them. _

_But in the split second that Chris had to redirect the bullets past their owners harmlessly, he had neither the concentration nor the control to catch them all. He was thrown back by the force of the impact, though he remained on his feet, ignoring the pain. _

_Magic was common knowledge these days. Demons roamed the streets of most cities. So the goons were not overly surprised by the half-decent display of telekinesis that Chris had just performed. They hissed the usual curses and nicknames as their confidence was bolstered by the fact that he was the only injured. Guns were suddenly more than he deserved. It was time for a good, old fashioned beat-down. _

_The man with the shotgun twisted his weapon in his hand to use it like a club and swung it in a wide arc at Chris's head. He easily deflected it with a slight telekinetic push and then followed through with an upper-cut that sent the man staggering back. He was quickly replaced with two of his enraged friends, and the fight continued._

_Adrenaline kept Chris going when blood loss wanted to bring him down, but he was still quickly losing the fight. A few good punches had him teetering and a leg sweep brought him plummeting to the concrete. And then they were all kicking him. His ribs, his face – no body part escaped unscathed. He closed his eyes, resisting the urge to throw them all away. Even now, his mother's voice rang in his ears: he couldn't harm an Innocent… even though the Innocents in question were currently beating him to death._

_But then the beating stopped. He blinked open his eyes to see a sheen of golden brown hair, and then an unfamiliar sensation ran through him. He pushed himself upright painfully, lurching to his feet despite the dizziness that threatened to drag him back down. He stared at the woman, the admittedly stunning woman, who watched him with concerned eyes. The woman that had just _shimmered_ him out of harm's way. "Who the hell are you?"_

"_I'm the girl that just saved your ass, Halliwell."_

"_You're a demon," Chris stated, backing away on unsteady feet, thankful when a wall came up behind him. He leaned against it, clutching at the bloody wound on his shoulder, glaring at the woman… demon… warily._

_She rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her leather-clad hips. "Actually, I'm a witch, but I'll forgive the misconception." _

"_Why did you…?"_

"_Save your life?" the woman finished. "To earn your trust. The battle lines have been drawn, and I'm picking a side." She took a step closer, knowing that with the wall behind him, he couldn't step back. She smiled conspiratorially. "Besides, you're cuter than your brother."_

_Chris made to make a sarcastic comment back, but suddenly his vision swam as the world tilted sideways. He felt her arms around him, catching him before he hit the ground again, and he felt his skin tingle strangely at her touch. She lowered him gently down so that he sat against the wall; his legs sprawled out in front of him. He looked into her warm brown eyes deliriously and slurred "You're not so bad yourself."_

"_Are you flirting with me, Halliwell?" she asked with a grin before returning her attention to the bullet wound which she probed with deft fingers. It was serious, he knew that much, but the pain was minimal so long as he didn't look at it._

"_I don't know…" he muttered genuinely, his eyes drifting shut. "And it's Chris…"_

"_Bianca."_

* * *

**Magic School**

Melinda Halliwell was being every librarian's worst nightmare as she tore books down from the shelves, flicked through them and chucked them unceremoniously on to the floor. In fact, she could vaguely hear Ms Sabinsky's irritated mutterings in the back of her head, but she ignored it as she doggedly set about her task.

There were too many books on poisons for her to read cover to cover, and yet not enough information on what she actually needed to know. She knew she should have put more pressure on her dad to install a computerised database so that they could actually _find_ what they were looking for when they needed it. But that wasn't helping her now, so she continued violently tearing through the library the old-fashioned way.

She was so consumed by her search that she didn't notice the slight illumination of orbs behind her. "Hello, Melinda."

She jumped sky high at the voice, raising the book she was skimming as if to throw it at the intruder. She calmed slightly when she recognised the white and gold robes of the Elders. But only slightly. She had been raised on stories of the amount of times the cloud-cuckoo-landers had screwed over her family, and she was still suspicious that the last people to see Chris before he had fallen ill had been them. She lowered the book and reopened it around the same place she was on. "If you're not here to help, I'm not interested," she said coldly.

Surprisingly, the blonde Elder smiled. "You are very much like your mother."

"So people like to tell me," Melinda rolled her eyes and tossed the book aside, grabbing up another. "So who are you and what do you want?"

"My name is Sandra," the Elder replied. Melinda vaguely recognised the name, and as far she could recall, there didn't seem to be any negative connotations to it. She relaxed slightly. "And I am here to talk to you."

"Great, you talk, I'll figure out a way to save my brother's life," she retorted sarcastically.

"You and I both know that Christopher will survive this ordeal," Sandra clasped her hands before her as her smile faltered. "It is not _yet_ his time."

Melinda gave the Elder a careful look, trying to read her intentions but failing to hear anything from her. She chewed on her lip, "Is that what you came here to talk about?"

Sandra sighed, and then took a seat on the edge of the desk near where Melinda stood. The casualness of the gesture threw her off as she had always known the Elders to be stuck up and stiff. As she perched there, slouched to one side, she looked almost… human. "I understand that this is difficult to accept, Melinda. I once had siblings too, a lifetime ago. I couldn't imagine doing what I am about to ask you to do, but… you have to let it go."

"What?!" Melinda shrieked, earning herself a glare and a _shh_ from Ms Sabinsky. "You want me to just give up? Accept the fact that my brother is going to die, stand aside and watch it happen?! Are you insane?"

"It will be the hardest task that we will ever bestow upon you Melinda," Sandra said quietly, unperturbed by the young girl's outburst; she couldn't imagine anyone's reaction being any different. "And I know that this will come as little consolation, but I truly believe that your brother's sacrifice will be for the Greater Good…"

"What do you mean, 'you believe'? You don't know what happens? I thought you guys were meant to know everything?"

"Contrary to popular belief, we Elders are not all-seeing," Sandra answered. "Even the most omniscient of creatures are unable to see what fate is coming to befall us all, but somehow Christopher is at the centre of it. This unforeseen future is inevitable, and if you keep fighting it as you are, I fear you will only make things worse."

Melinda scoffed "That's bullshit. How can something 'unforeseen' be inevitable? You're all full of crap and I don't have to listen to it!"

"Melinda…" Sandra interceded quietly, slumping down further as she struggled to continue her argument when she so whole-heartedly agreed with the young girl. "We can't control you or your actions or choices, no matter how much some of the other Elders want to. There have even been debates as to whether we should use memory dust on you," Melinda's eyes widened. "But I firmly believe that this is your choice. You are strong, Melinda."

Sandra tried to meet the young girls eyes but the Halliwell refused to raise her gaze from the floor. With a heavy sigh, the Elder climbed back to her feet, regaining the regal posture that Melinda was accustomed to seeing. She waved her hand and one of the discarded books materialised on the desk. The pages began flipping while shrouded in a golden glow as Melinda watched curiously. Once the book settled she grabbed it up and scanned through it, her eyes lighting up at the answer that she held.

"Sometimes, Melinda," Sandra said sadly. "Making the right choice is not necessarily the easy choice."

* * *

"_Oh my god. It's really true."_

_Chris glanced up from the book he was reading to give his cousin a curious look, disconcerted to find her grinning at him like a Cheshire cat. "What's true…?"_

"_I couldn't believe the vibes I was getting so I just had to come see for myself," Prue continued, her eyes filled with mock wonder as she took cautious steps towards him. "I can't believe it… you're… you're actually… _happy_."_

_Chris rolled his eyes with a half-smile and then returned to the book. Prue bounced forward, getting right into his personal space. "Was that a smile Halliwell? Stop the presses! I haven't seen you like this since you met Bianca – and you were delirious from blood loss then. What's got you in such a good mood?"_

_He chewed his lip thoughtfully for a moment before allowing his smile to grow a little. The expression felt odd as unused muscles were forced into action, but at the same time, it felt good. Jesus, how long had it been since he'd last smiled? His thoughts strayed into dangerous territory as he recalled all the reasons he had for the absence of happiness and the smile faltered slightly. Before Prue could notice however, he gestured behind him. "I think I finally figured it out."_

_Prue looked unconvinced as she walked past him to study the wall of papers and strings. It was an odd look into her cousin's mind as she skimmed over his hand written notes and doodled symbols. The backdrop was a map of San Francisco from before the Fall, edited to show all the changes that had happened in the last six years. To anyone else she knew it would make little to no sense, but she could see his thought processes and vaguely understood what it was that he was trying to achieve. "Are you sure…? I thought Leo said…"_

"_I don't care what Leo said," Chris interrupted coldly, his brief happiness immediately extinguished, and Prue cringed at her mistake. She passed him an apologetic look. "I know that we can do this. And we only need five powerful-ish witches."_

_Prue's eyes widened in surprise. "We can wipe out a city of demons with five witches? Seriously?"_

_Chris shifted awkwardly. "A city wide vanquish is unlikely. But look at the pentagram on the map. We can vanquish every demon within its radius."_

_Prue squinted at the map again, tracing the red lines of the five-point star, her brows furrowing in confusion. "You want to use the Nexus? You know that it doesn't exist anymore, right?"_

"_Wrong," Chris corrected as he leaned back against a book strewn desk, his previous reading material forgotten. He had been working on a way to perform a mass vanquish for years, a way to flush all of the evil out of the city in one fell swoop, but he had never been this close before. "The Shadow is gone, but the Manor is still equidistant from the five elements, making the whole area a power booster."_

"_Equidistant, really? You sound like a wiki page," Prue questioned with a raised eyebrow. Chris shrugged, gesturing at his reading material as if that explained everything. "Alright, so where do the five witches go? At the five points?"_

"_No, at the five corners of the pentagon in the middle."_

"_So we all have to be inside the area where all evil is going to be vanquished?" Prue gave him a concerned look. "Is Bianca one of the witches you're gonna be using? Cause Chris… that could end badly." _

_He climbed to his feet and came and stood beside her. "I'll give her the option, but as she likes to remind everyone on a regular basis, she's a witch, not a demon. And she's not evil either. I think she'll be okay, and we're already short on the witches we need to pull this off…"_

"_Are you willing to risk it?"_

"_No, but if I know Bianca, she will be," Chris said with a small smile and Prue nodded. Then she pointed to something else on the map and his expression became grim. "Yeah, that's a whole other issue."_

_The small black pin was the only mark Chris had made to show his brother's presence in San Francisco. Wyatt's headquarters were set up near the Manor, and was well within the boundaries of the spell that he had created to wipe out everything evil. "Do you think it will hurt him…?" Prue asked worriedly. Even after everything that Wyatt had done – taken away her entire family, she still found the compassion. There were so few of them left… Even losing him…_

"_I don't think so," Chris shook his head. "I'm probably in denial, but I'm still telling myself that he's not really evil. And even… even if he is… He's still the Twice Blessed after all. It will probably tickle."_

_Prue gave him a small smile. "So, we're really going to do this?"_

"_Yep. We're going to fight back."_

* * *

**The Halliwell Manor**

"Do you still feel useless?"

Leo glanced up at his wife who had just broken the comfortable quiet of the attic. Her expression was forlorn as worry for her younger son added to the stress she had already been feeling. She knelt on a cushion besides the low table where a cauldron was brewing, the Book of Shadows open on the floor beside her. Leo was on the floor as well, leaning against the couch and watching helplessly as Chris flinched in his feverish sleep. There was only one honest answer to her question. "Yes."

Piper's eyes dropped to the floorboards as she chewed on her lip. "I never meant to make you feel that way."

"It's not you…" Leo half-lied to reassure her. In truth, Piper did play a part in the feeling of incompetence he had developed; he used to be her protector after all. But that wasn't the whole story. He felt as if the rug had been pulled out from under him and he was taking an incredibly long time to hit the ground. Everything he had known was suddenly gone. Everything was different. He just couldn't seem to figure out his new part in the grand scheme of things. "I'm just… out of place."

"And I'm not helping, am I?" Piper finished the unspoken thought with a wry smile. "It's against your nature to run and hide whenever a big bad shows up, and me trying to force you to is pushing us apart. It's ironic really: you chose us and yet I still manage to make a mess of things. I got everything I ever wanted, and I still can't get it right."

"It's going to take time, and we've got plenty of that," Leo grinned like the young man he really was, making the old face he wore scrunch up with wrinkles. Piper almost laughed, but figured she didn't look as youthful as she felt herself. "We are going to figure this out. We are going to raise three fantastic children together. And I will love you forever."

"I love you too," Piper whispered. "And I always will."

"I found it!"

Piper and Leo snapped around at the shout as the panting figure of their youngest child came bounding into the attic. She waved a book in the air as she recovered from the full pelt run up two flights of stairs. Leo glanced at Chris, placing a hand to his forehead then checking his pulse. He was fading fast. "Good, because we're running out of time."

Melinda's excitement of her discovery quickly deflated into a calm focus as she came to kneel beside her mother and opened the book to the page that Sandra had shown her. "It's like a magical cure-all antivenin for every poison ever."

"It seems simple enough," Piper muttered as she scanned through the recipe, though she faltered when she reached the last, and most crucial, ingredient. "It requires a sample of the poison that the victim has been infected with…"

"Yeah," Melinda nodded uncertainly. "But for the first time in my eighteen and a half years, I am grateful that Wyatt likes to leap before he looks. He's already saved us a load of time by going off on his own earlier."

"So long as it _really_ was the demons that did this," Piper voiced the doubt that they were all thinking. Melinda squirmed as the consequences of such a mistake materialised in her mind's eye. She glanced at Chris. She knew that Sandra had been right, and that he still had six months to go, but the possibility that they were wrong still scared her. But she couldn't really voice either the reassurance or the doubt without giving away the secret, so she remained silent.

"It has to be," Leo comforted, completely misreading the quiet that had enveloped his daughter. "There was nothing else that could have done this."

"Right," Piper immediately agreed, reaching forward to tuck Melinda's long hair behind her ear. "Wyatt will be back soon, and everything will be okay."

* * *

**The Other Dimension**

'Outnumbered' was an understatement.

He stepped out of the portal and into the centre of the hive. He was on the ground floor of an egg-shaped cavern, a small circle of red sky visible at the very top of the structure. It must have been as tall as the Empire State Building, with just as many floors lining the rounded walls. And every square inch of the space was filled with grey-skinned, dinosaur-clawed demons.

They all turned to stare at him at once, a sea of black pupils fixating upon the otherworldly intruder. All activity ceased as Wyatt stood rooted to the spot and scared out of his mind. He really did have to be insane to truly believe that he could pull this off.

Then the grey portal closed with a quiet pop behind him. And all hell broke loose.

Animalistic screams and ape-like battle cries reverberated around the stone dome as thousands of the demons attacked as one. They jumped fearlessly from mile-high perches, plummeting down like a thunderstorm of death and destruction. The ground shook with the thuds of their impact, all of them landing on their feet as nimbly as big cats.

It was more instinct than anything else that made Wyatt throw up his force field in time to save him from the initial attack. Ten or so of the demons smacked into the blue barrier and bounced off with squeals of pain. But it barely slowed them down as they jumped right back to their feet again and charged boldly at the wall of blue light once more.

The relative success of the first attack bolstered Wyatt's wavering confidence as he forced himself to push past his fear and focus on the task at hand. But it was hard when he knew that a miniscule portion of the demons he currently faced was all that it had taken to bring him to his knees not more than a few hours before. It made him reluctant to lower the shield that presently kept the monsters at bay.

While still hiding behind his force field he held out a hand and mentally called for one of the needle sharp knives that he could see glistening in the vests of the demons pounding angrily at his shield. It was all that he was here for after all. But when nothing happened, not even when he called out loud, he knew that his job had just got a lot harder than he thought. He cursed under his breath as he tried to come up with a plan.

The bubble of blue was getting smaller as he struggled to maintain it while under the constant assault of hundreds and hundreds of manic demons. He knew that soon it would disappear altogether, and then he would be at their mercy, his superpowers paling in comparison to their sheer numbers. He had to make things more manageable.

Taking a deep breath as he called upon a deeper reserve of power, he allowed the weakening force field to drop. But the demons didn't have time to react before a massive wave of telekinetic energy erupted from their quarry, knocking them every which way as they were thrown uncontrollably through the air. Almost completely wiped from the exertion, Wyatt barely had the energy to mutter the ancient words that created a barrier around him. It spanned no more than twenty metres in both directions, all that he could sustain under the current circumstances, with only a handful of the demons caught inside.

The demons, both inside and out, clambered to their feet seemingly as one. As the thousands he held back began trying to tear the magical barrier down, Wyatt kept his attention on the five demons that he was trapped with.

Two of them leapt at him but he knocked them back. Several flickering red energy balls came soaring at him while he was distracted, but he orbed out in time to avoid them. He reappeared behind one of grey monsters, wrapping one arm around its thick neck while he reached for a needle with the other. But the demon managed to shake him off, raking its claws across his face as it shoved him away.

Wyatt hit the ground and rolled back up into a crouch, breathing heavily as he winced in pain. He felt the warmth of his own blood streaming down his face and neck. He had been so close.

All five of the demons came at him this time, screaming like banshees as they raised their arms, desperate to tear him to pieces. When they were less than a metre away he raised his shield for an instant, just long enough to propel them back. He then leapt to his feet, telekinetically grabbing a hold of one of the flying demons and slamming it painfully to the stone ground. He held it down with an outstretched hand as he came and knelt beside it and finally managed to snatch the coveted blade.

He barely had time to celebrate his success before the demons recovered. He could feel the vacillating strength of the barrier as it waned under the relentless attack. He had to get out of there.

Despite the fight, the second vial of the potion he had made remained intact, something Wyatt was immensely grateful for as he pulled it out of his pocket. Throwing up one last shield with the remainder of his strength to keep the oncoming demons back, he smashed the vial on the ground.

Thankfully it worked faster this time around. His force field died just as the portal twisted into existence, the poison-tipped blade held firmly in a closed fist. Without a second look back he dived straight through the dimensional door, rematerializing on the floor of the front room in the Halliwell Manor. Adrenaline gave him the remaining energy to stagger back onto unsteady feet as he glared at the dilating circle of grey warily.

"Wyatt?!"

He glanced over his shoulder to see Melinda standing at the threshold of the room, an odd mixture of relief and panic on her face as she took in his bloody appearance. Her gaze was then caught by the portal, and the demons that were coming through it. Without knowing if she even had one of the potions needed to do so, he ordered her to close the portal. He was rewarded with the comforting tinkle of breaking glass as she did as she was told. The portal and the demons were wiped from their reality in an instant, and Wyatt breathed a sigh of relief.

"Please tell me you got it," Melinda said breathlessly. Wyatt held up the knife in response, too tired to form a coherent reply as his self-healing finally kicked in and fixed the deep gashes in his face. "Good, we need it to make the antidote, come on."

* * *

_They were running for their lives. Literally._

_If they faltered, paused, tripped or even slowed their desperate pace then it would be the end. The dark cloud was coming. It descended from the sky and blotted out the last vestiges of a setting sun, surrounding them in an eternal night. From within its swirling mass screams could be heard. High, shrill, their pain piercing through the souls of anyone who could hear them. _

_Chris gripped onto Bianca's hand as he half-led, half-dragged her along the desolate street. Burnt out cars, abandoned luggage and the shrapnel of a struggling city blocked their path. The smaller things he moved aside with his telekinesis, but they were forced to dodge around the vehicles parked haphazardly in the middle of the road. The screams followed them as they kept barely a few yards ahead of the coming storm._

"_This is pointless!" Bianca yelled as she panted from the exertion of the full-out run. Her face was drenched with sweat as her long locks whipped behind her. "You know we can't escape! Even if we make it to the outskirts…"_

_It was true. The city of Seattle had been surrounded by a barrier. There was no way out, and while inside, all variations of teleportation were cancelled out. The cloud of darkness would infiltrate every cubic-inch of the city, killing everyone it touched with its icy tendrils of death. They couldn't outrun it. They couldn't escape its reach. But maybe they could hide. "Come on!"_

_Chris put on a burst of speed, ignoring the protests of his tired legs and malnourished body. They needed to put some distance between themselves and the darkness. They needed to buy some time. Bianca barely kept pace with him as she clung to his hand like it was a lifeline. "Where are we going?"_

"_Here!" Chris suddenly veered left, never once slowing. They darted up the front steps of an empty, boarded up house, the cloud half a street behind them. With his free hand Chris telekinetically kicked the door open and they ran straight in. He shoved Bianca in front of him as he stopped and turned to face the way they'd came. "The basement!"_

_Pausing for only a moment, Bianca did as she was told, quickly seeking out the basement door and darting down the steps. Meanwhile Chris muttered the ancient words that he had learned a lifetime ago at Magic School. He felt a ripple flow through him as a barrier formed around the house. It would do little to protect them from the darkness, but it would give them a little of the time that they so desperately needed. He then turned and sprinted after Bianca, slamming the basement door shut behind him. "Knife!"_

_Without needing explanation, Bianca conjured a blade in her hand and threw it with accuracy at the doorframe beside which Chris stood. She already had a knife in her own hands as she scratched a symbol into the brick next to the only window in the subterranean room._

_Chris began work on his own, hoping that his crude rendition of the ward would be enough. To finish, he used the blade to cut his finger, and blessed the spell with his blood, muttering more ancient words under his breath. Once he was done he took a step away, warily watching the ceiling. "Do you think it's enough?" Bianca muttered in the tense silence that had settled between them._

_The screams grew louder as outside the darkness encroached on the sanctuary that they had spontaneously created. Its presence was oppressive; the weight of the death that it promised weighing down on their hearts as it mercilessly broke through the barrier that Chris had thrown up around the house. It crept into every crevice, killing every thing that lived within its reach. But as it approached the basement door, it found an obstruction that it could not pass. It pushed fruitlessly against the Old Magic, and then continued onwards. There was easier prey to be had._

_In the basement only the sound of heavy breathing could be heard. The screams ceased as the last of the life in the once thriving metropolis was extinguished. Only two hearts were left beating in a city that once housed hundreds of thousands. _

_After a while of just standing, Chris climbed down the stairs and dropped onto the lower steps in shock. Once again he had survived where everyone else had died. He had brought twenty members of the Resistance with him, not including him and Bianca. And now they were all dead. They had failed. They had known the attack was coming, but they had failed to stop it. They had failed to save anyone. He had failed._

"_Chris…" Bianca whispered into the quiet. She had found a piece of junk to rest on nearby and was watching him with worried eyes. He remained motionless. Minutes passed. Hours even. "Chris… you're scaring me…"_

"_How many people?" Chris finally said; his voice hoarse and thick with emotion. Bianca didn't answer. "Five… maybe Six hundred thousand? And that's just one city. It's the third one he's wiped out this month. The eighth this year. The sixteenth since he first figured out how to do it. How many more do you think it will take before it will finally be enough?"_

"_Chris…" Bianca murmured again, unsure of what else she could say. She knew where Chris's thoughts were taking him. They had talked about this before. But he had never been so outwardly broken when he'd brought it up. "It's not your fault…"_

_Chris scoffed spitefully, self-hatred marring his young features. "How can you say that…? I could have ended this a long time ago. I should have. But I was too damn selfish. I thought… I thought that I could save him. That maybe… maybe he would come back home and we could forget any of this ever happened. Why has it taken sixteen cities for me to see reality? Why have I had to lose everyone before I realised that the obvious answer is the _only_ answer?"_

_Silence settled again, the distant dripping of condensation the only noise that broke it. Bianca shuffled forward, coming to kneel before him, studying his stormy green eyes. He blinked, meeting her brown orbs, years of heartache, pain and loss filling his voice._

"_I have to… I have to k… I have to k-ki…" he groaned at his own ineptitude. "I can't even say it. He's taken away my whole family, murdered millions of Innocents and I still can't say it."_

"_He's your brother Chris." Bianca stated simply. She came and sat beside him on the stairs, wrapping herself around his arm and burying her face into his neck. Her warm breath tickled his skin as she whispered the truth. "You're afraid. You're afraid that if you do this, you're going to be completely alone. The Last Halliwell. But, Chris, the reality is that Wyatt has been gone for a long time. And you're still not alone. You have me."_

_Chris leaned weakly into her embrace, drawing comfort from her presence. Her warmth reassured him that she was real and alive and with him. And she was right. He wasn't alone. He sat up a little straighter, feeling a little stronger and surer of himself._

"_I'm going to do it," he stated firmly. "I'm going to kill him."_

* * *

**The Halliwell Manor**

Mother and daughter worked on the antidote while father and son watched over the ailing Chris. There was a focused silence in the attic as the pressure mounted. It was clear that they had little time left. He had stopped moving half an hour ago, and now he just lay frighteningly still and pale, barely breathing as he gradually faded away.

"This is going to work, isn't it?" Wyatt muttered uncertainly, glancing over at Piper and Melinda.

They both tried to smile convincingly. "Of course it will, Wy," Melinda replied with forced enthusiasm. Leo reached over to give his son's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Chris will be back to his sarcastic, neurotic self in no time, you'll see."

Wyatt nodded, drawing his knees under his chin as he leaned back against the couch where his brother lay. He looked small and frightened; a far cry from his usual self, and Leo gave him a worried look. "He's going to be alright, Wy. He's been through tougher scrapes than this."

"I know," Wyatt murmured bitterly. If it weren't for the near-silence of the room, Leo doubted that he would have heard it. He caught his son's eye and raised an inquisitive brow. Wyatt sighed awkwardly, and after four months of saying nothing, he finally admitted how he really felt. "I… I just feel so guilty all the time, knowing what another version of me did to him. I don't know how he could stand to be near me after all the things I did…"

"It wasn't you…" Leo tried, but Wyatt just scoffed.

"It could have been," he pointed out, his voice rising slightly. "Let's face it, it still could be, it didn't exactly take much to turn me the first time, did it?"

Leo shook his head forcefully. "You were two years old Wyatt. The trauma would have been enough to turn a saint…"

"Do you have any idea what I did?" Wyatt asked derisively. On the other side of the room, Melinda shivered, the memories she had shared with Chris a few months ago flashing across her mind's eye. Leo just looked away in admittance of his ignorance. "I killed people Dad. I murdered our whole family as well has hundreds of thousands of Innocents. I killed Mom with my own hands in front of him."

Leo's eyes widened in shock while Piper's hands froze mid-action at their son's words. Neither of them had known that. Chris had told them that things were bad and that Wyatt had been at the forefront of the world's collapse into chaos, but he had never told them what had happened to them. They had had no idea just how far gone their eldest child had been. After a moment of stunned silence, Leo stammered again "I-it w-wasn't y-you…"

"So everyone keeps telling me," Wyatt scowled as he looked away from them all. "But for some reason, it doesn't make the slightest bit of difference."

No one had anything to say to that and a tense silence once again settled in the small space. Piper and Melinda returned their attention to the antidote they were brewing, the process serving just as much as a distraction as it was a necessity as they focused on saving Chris. Little did they know that he was trapped in a prison of memories from the timeline that they strove to ignore.

* * *

_It had taken a lot of convincing, but nearly a month after he had made the decision to stop Wyatt, the Elders had finally granted Chris back his wings. The angelic powers felt odd after so long without them, and it had taken him nearly a day to get his newly reclaimed sensing powers under control, but eventually he felt ready for the task that he had set himself._

_Or as ready as he was ever going to be._

_Now he stood alone in the cold of his mother's old club. P3 had long ago been abandoned and boarded up, though it had been protected from the worst of the world's cruelty by its association with the Halliwells. It hadn't been preserved like the Manor had, but aside from seven years of dust it had been left untouched. Only the erosive hands of time had changed it, and while Chris stood there, he could picture it as it had been while his mother had been alive._

_But reminiscing wasn't getting him anywhere. If anything, it was making it harder. He squeezed his eyes shut and balled his hands into fists as he tried to make his resolve as unbreakable as possible. And then, for the first time in over five years, he orbed._

_He reformed on the same spot, an unfamiliar smile tugging at his lips. "I really missed that," he muttered to himself, though his voice echoed around the empty space. Now all he had to do was wait._

"_Well, this is a surprise." _

_Chris barely suppressed a flinch as his brother's voice came out of thin air, followed quickly by a spiral of black orbs that dissolved into the tyrant's foreboding form. He wore black from head to toe, his blonde hair grown out long and untamed. Ice cold eyes studied Chris with an inquisitive brow. "I thought for sure that you had bound those powers, so when I sensed your orbs I just had to see for myself."_

_Chris shrugged, falling back on the failsafe of sarcasm as pain and fear threatened to send him running. "Well I would have called, but I seem to have lost your number."_

_Wyatt smirked. "I've missed this. Why don't we ever see each other anymore?"_

"_Because you're a mass-murdering psychopath who killed our entire family, let demons walk the earth and oh yeah, is hell bent on world domination?" Chris retorted sarcastically. He dug into his deepest reserves of anger and hate to fuel his continued presence. Every fibre of his body screamed that he couldn't do it. Yelled at him to just run away. But he had made a decision, and he was nothing if not stubborn, so he stayed._

_Amusement flickered in Wyatt's eyes at his younger brother's jibe, but as he studied Chris's face and body language, he sighed tiredly. "Why do I get the feeling that you're not here for a chat?"_

"_You've gone too far, Wyatt," Chris stated, his hands still clenched by his sides. Wyatt just rolled his eyes. "I thought… I made the mistake of thinking that you could be saved…"_

"_How many times do I have to tell you, little brother?" the blonde interrupted irritably, crossing his arms over his chest. Chris adjusted his stance, hiding one arm behind his back and opening a closed fist. A small vial of dull liquid rested in his palm, and as the Twice Blessed began to rant, Chris telekinetically raised the vial into the air. "I don't _need_ saving. I'm not evil. I'm not a demon. I have just finally realised the truth. There is no good or evil. There is only power, and as the most powerful being in the world, I should be its ruler. Why don't you see…?"_

"_Save me the sales pitch," Chris snapped before Wyatt could make the same offer he had always made. The offer that had tempted him on more than one occasion. "It's never worked before, so why would it now?"_

_The potion vial hovered directly over Wyatt now, though Chris refused to give it away by looking at it. If he timed this just right, there was a slight possibility that he would actually stand a chance when the fighting began. _

"_It's just you and me now Chris, everyone else is gone…"_

"_And whose fault is that?!"_

_Chris shouted, his concentration slipping as Wyatt poked a sore spot in his psyche. Without his magic holding it up, the potion surrendered to gravity. It fell, reaching so close… but failing to hit its mark. The glass collided with a tiny square of blue as with barely a thought, Wyatt blocked the attack. He looked from Chris to the broken vial and back again, pure shock on his face. _

"_A power binding potion?"_

_Chris's heart sank as his last real hope was squashed. He had known that his likelihood of walking away from this altercation victorious was slim, but at least with that potion the playing fields had been a little more level. Now he didn't stand a chance. And they both knew it._

"_I figured it was only fair," Chris replied, still trying to be nonchalant while everything fell apart around him. _

"_It was a mistake," Wyatt stated coolly. He raised a hand, and Chris knew what was coming. "And now you're going to pay for it."_

_Before the telekinetic chokehold could commence though, Chris darted to one side, knocking over tables and throwing furniture around. To an observer the attack would have appeared to be uncontrolled and desperate, but Chris knew exactly what he was doing. Wyatt hated the weakness of hiding behind his force field, and as such would only ever use small versions of it at any time. By bombarding him with multiple objects from every direction, he could keep Wyatt distracted long enough to avoid a curb stomp battle._

_As was to be expected though, the Twice Blessed lost patience very quickly. With a frustrated shout a wave of power exploded out of him, its shockwave blasting everything in the room and sending it flying into the walls. But before this, Chris had made it the bar and hopped down behind it, shielding him from the assault. _

_Breathing heavily in anger, and maybe just a tad from the exertion, Wyatt scanned the room. When he didn't immediately see his brother's broken body amongst the wreckage he called out spitefully "Where are you hiding little brother?"_

_In his shelter, Chris held his breath. It wasn't necessary or voluntary, but the fear that gripped him warned him that Wyatt would find him if he dared to make a sound. His chest tightened as his body screamed for oxygen, but while he could hear his brother's footsteps searching for him, he stubbornly refused. _

"_I taught you to be a better fighter than this, surely?" Wyatt asked, sounding disappointed. He prowled the club like a predator, his blue eyes not missing a single detail. "Maybe I have been too lenient on you… Allowing you to become this weak… It's disappointing…"_

_Chris closed his eyes, his throat constricted as he slowly suffocated himself. As always, his head and his heart pulled him in opposite directions as they refused to agree on a course of action. Logically he knew that he had two options: run, or fight. He also knew that neither option boded particularly well for him. His heart scolded him for even considering the act he had come here to commit, while at the same time thirsted for revenge. He was confused, and the need to breathe was becoming overwhelming._

_The footsteps came closer. They were practically silent, barely a scuffle on the linoleum floor, but in the silence they were as loud as drums in his ears. Then they came to a stop, and Chris could feel his brother's shadow cast over him. He had made his decision a long time ago._

_It was time to follow through._

_Gasping in a desperate breath he leapt to his feet and spun, flinging out an arm blindly. It was enough of a surprise to take Wyatt off guard and he flew backwards, hitting the ground with a smack and sliding onwards a few more feet. Chris then vaulted over the bar, extended his arm, and threw his brother again. This time Wyatt collided with the neon P3 sign behind the stage, and then dropped onto the hollow set with a dull thud._

_Panting, Chris closed the distance between them with cautious steps. He climbed up onto the stage, hands raised to defend himself. Then he saw Wyatt's bloody face and injured body. He was torn between the desire to help him and apologise and the chance to finally finish this._

_He came and knelt beside Wyatt, as he had done with every other member of their fallen family in their last moments. Flashes of their pale faces and sightless eyes passed before him, reminding him of what he had to do. He picked up a piece of glass from the broken neon light and held it against his brother's throat. His hand shook violently as it battled against him, but he forced it to cooperate. He pressed the sharpened point to the skin. He hesitated._

"_Pathetic."_

_Chris jumped at Wyatt's voice as the blue eyes opened and glared at him. The wounds he had sustained from the telekinetic throw-down had disappeared, but Wyatt stayed lying still and glared up at his younger brother. _

"_You don't have the guts to kill me." Wyatt sneered, grabbing a hold of Chris's hand and keeping the glass shard hovering near his own throat. "That's what makes you so weak."_

_Chris tried to pull his arm from his brother's grasp, but Wyatt's grip was too strong. He grabbed his other arm too as he slowly sat up, holding him by the wrists tight enough to force him to drop his melee weapon. As Wyatt climbed to his feet he dragged Chris up as well so that the pair of them stood face to face on the stage. "But we can fix that."_

_With a forceful shove he pushed Chris backwards, watching as he fell and hit the dance floor with a satisfying crack. He jumped down after him, and then seized a fistful of his younger brother's shirt, pulling him onto his knees. Wyatt knelt down as well so that he gripped Chris's arm with his left hand and his lips were level with his ear. "You are going to learn."_

_Dazed from his date with the concrete, Chris didn't have the strength to struggle. He was barely conscious enough to keep his eyes open. He didn't register the fact that Excalibur had just materialised in Wyatt's right hand. Not until its blade was plunged deep into his abdomen, and out the other side._

_He allowed Chris a moment to get his breathing under control before he pulled the sword back out again, prolonging the pain for as long as possible. He then let Excalibur dropped to the floor with a loud clatter, freeing up his hand again._

"_Now, little brother," Wyatt said slowly and clearly, as if speaking to a difficult child. "I will heal you if you promise to stop this foolishness and join me. I can make the pain go away." _

"_Go to hell…"_

_The grip on Chris's arm tightened, keeping him upright when all his weakening body wanted to do was collapse and give up. His defiance was not pleasing Wyatt, who practically growled in frustration and impatience. "Why must you be like this? We could have everything without fear or pain. Why don't you understand? Why won't you join me?"_

"_I think that the answer to that is fairly obvious."_

_Chris vaguely recognised the new voice that retorted to Wyatt's rant. He didn't really have any good memories to associate with it, not that he had many of those anyway, and a flare of anger sparked in his chest. It couldn't be _him_. Why would he be here? Now? And whose side is he on?_

"_What the hell are you doing here?" Wyatt demanded. He climbed to his feet and released his hold on his brother. Without the support, Chris painfully dropped onto his side with a gasp. He blacked out._

_The darkness that was the depths of his wounded soul and battered heart kept him company as he floated in unconsciousness, haunted by a lifetime of misery. But then a golden light appeared in the gloom, and the pain was swept away like old cobwebs. Feeling came back to him slowly. He was lying on something cold and metallic, and a harsh wind tugged at his hair and battered his skin. He could smell the sea. Even before he opened his eyes he knew that he was atop the Golden Gate Bridge, though how he had gotten there he didn't have a clue._

_The pain ceased and he took a grateful breath, pushing himself upright as he scanned his surroundings warily. Then his gaze settled on the person who had just saved his life. _

"_Leo?"_

_The Elder flinched at Chris's use of his first name instead of the title that he had long ago lost the right to. _Dad_. He looked pained, and ashamed and guilty when he realised that his son's first impression to his presence was shock and suspicion. Chris quickly darted to his feet and put some distance between them, only stopping when the bridge's support beam appeared at his back. He wanted to run away, but at the same time, he was curious, and maybe just a tad… hopeful. "What are you d…? Why did you…? I don't understand…"_

_Leo looked away sadly. "I've made a great many mistakes, Chris. One of the worst is how long it has taken me to see them. I should have listened to you. I should have seen what was happening…"_

"_Look, Leo, you can try and reconcile your conscience later," Chris interrupted coldly. He knew the man that he had once called Dad was trying to say that he was sorry, but that apology was simply ten years too late. "But I have to get back to the Resistance and tell them that I just failed…"_

"_No, Chris. You have to figure out how you're going to get your hands on the Book."_

_Chris stared at Leo in confusion, his brow furrowed. "Why would I need to do that?"_

"_Because I've figured it out," Leo took a step towards his son, but didn't go any closer when he saw him wince at the movement. He sighed. "I know when it all went wrong. There's a spell in the Book that will take you back in time and allow you to keep your powers. You can go back and change things. We can fix this."_

"_Why do_ I_ have to do it?" Chris asked a little petulantly. "It's your mistake, _you_ fix it."_

"_I can't. Time travel… well, it's tricky," Leo said with a wry smile. Chris rolled his eyes. "Basically, there can't be two me's in one time, the concentration of power could throw off the whole balance. But whatever happened to Wyatt happened before you were born so you…"_

"_Wait… you don't actually know what turned him?" Chris interjected incredulously. Leo shook his head. "So let me get this straight. You want me to somehow steal the Book from Wyatt, go back twenty-two years into the past where everyone will be alive, happy and oblivious on the off chance that I can somehow stop some unknown evil from turning my big brother psycho? Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?"_

"Chris? Chris, can you hear me?"

_Leo chewed his lip, and then gave an unhelpful shrug. "I know that it's a lot to ask of you, and that I don't have the right to, but there is no one else. You are the only one who can do this. This is the only way to fix everything… maybe even bring them back…"_

_Chris glared at Leo. "Really? You're going to use my dead family to guilt trip me into your insane little mission? Some father you are."_

"_No, Chris, I'm offering you another option," Leo said despondently. "Tonight you tried to kill your brother. It didn't work, and even if you had succeeded, what would it have solved? I know that you still love him, even after everything… Just imagine what the world could be like if he was still the Wyatt that you remember. Everything would be different, and none of this… none of this would have ever happened. Don't you want that?"_

"I think he's waking up…"

"_Leo, I know enough about personal gain and time-travel to know that there is just as much a chance of making everything worse!"_

"_Worse than this?" Leo questioned, gesturing out at the smoking ruins of the San Francisco skyline. "There is a chance that we could change all of this. Isn't that worth the risk?" _

_Chris looked around them at the city and the bay and desolation. He could only just remember what it had once been like seven years earlier, before demons had poured onto the streets and turned it into a second Underworld. But as he stared, he found the world began to twist and dilate around him. He glanced at Leo to find that the Elder had simply disappeared. _Typical.

"Chris…? Come on sweetie…"

_The world dissolved into a swirling mass of grey as he staggered back against support beam. He clung to the last dregs of colour as the scarlet metal began to disappear as well. He was so high up. Fear gripped him as the last of the bridge vanished from beneath him. And suddenly he was falling into the darkness once again._

"Chris?"

He opened his eyes just the tiniest bit, shutting them again when the meagre light threatened to blind him. There came some words of encouragement from an assortment of voices, but one stood out. One that filled him with anger as the last echoes of the memory played across the back of his eyelids. He blinked his eyes open again, bringing the foggy form of the Elder into vague focus. "Leo?"

He blinked again, his vision clearing. He found himself sprawled on Aunt Pearl's couch, surrounded on all sides by four familiar faces. Melinda was leaning over the back of the couch, her face hovering right over him and grinning broadly. Wyatt stood by the arm of the chair where Chris's feet were currently propped, and despite the hell his mind had just put him through, he felt no fear at his older brother's presence. His parents were the closest to him; Piper perched on the edge of the seat by his legs while Leo remained on the floor right next to him, an odd expression on his aged features.

"What the hell happened?" Chris croaked, pushing himself upright. The attic spun around him for a moment as vertigo hit, but he refused to lie back down. Melinda eagerly filled him in on the details of what had occurred in the several hours that he had been down for the count. The pace at which she spoke left his exhausted mind behind, but he was just grateful to have something to distract him from his trip down memory lane.

Once the story was told and concluded with day being officially saved, Piper said quietly "I guess all that's left is for us to go back home then."

"Do you have to go?" Melinda asked quietly with wide eyes.

Wyatt lightly punched her on the arm. "They're not going anywhere, idiot. Our Mom and Dad will just be here instead, and as _they_ are technically _them_ they're not actually leaving."

"Ugh, don't mess with my head," Melinda replied with a groan, rubbing her eyes dramatically. "Time travel is confusing enough without you trying to explain it. And besides, I just meant, did they have to go _yet_."

"We do," Piper said firmly as she stood, ignoring the creaking of old joints. Leo followed her lead, stretching out his back from spending too long on the unforgiving floor. "As much as I love seeing you and as much as I would love to get to know you all better, we have to get back to our time and to baby Wyatt and Chris."

"Guess it's time for the hugging then," Melinda smirked. She immediately found herself enveloped in a hug from her mother-to-be. As they pulled away she saw that Piper had tears in her eyes. "My baby-me will be seeing you in a few years, don't worry. Oh, and you'll be pleased to know, I am adorable."

Piper laughed and passed her daughter onto Leo who hugged her as well. "I can't wait to meet you."

"My god our family is strange," Melinda quipped in reply, stepping back so that her brothers could say goodbye as well. It was an odd, bittersweet moment to bid farewell to the parents that technically hadn't met her yet, and only in a Halliwell household would such a thing ever be possible. But as she stood there and watched her parents hold hands, she couldn't imagine it being any other way.

_Take us back to whence we came_

_To time and place that are the same_

_Let past be present_

_That time regain_

White orbs swarmed around Piper and Leo as the souls of their 2004 selves were whisked away to their own time. In their place stood the actual Piper and Leo, back in their rightful bodies. Piper crossed her arms over her chest as she gave her children a half-smile.

"What? Twenty-three years and I don't get a hug?"

* * *

**The Halliwell Manor – 2004**

The flaming fragments of the scrap of paper with Piper's scrawled handwriting on it were just falling into the tin bowl as the couple returned to their bodies. They stood exactly as they were the moment that they had left, the only difference being the now missing page in the Book of Shadows as the spell was completed.

The disorientation passed faster this time around as they were replaced as opposed to displaced. After only a few blinks Piper was steady on her feet and testing out her young-again body. She glanced over at Leo who was staring distantly at where their children would be standing in twenty-three years' time. She smiled sadly, "We've got some decisions to make…"

"We can't tell them," Leo interrupted firmly, causing Piper to double-take. "I know that they find out anyway, but like Chris said, some things are meant to happen a certain way. And…"

Piper waited for him to continue, but Leo had trailed off, caught up in his thoughts. "And…?" she prompted after a moment.

"And we can't put Wyatt through that," he said quietly. "You saw how it affected him. He felt so guilty and blamed himself for everything that his other-self did. We can't just tell him that he was an evil person who put his brother through hell. It's not fair on him."

Silence settled after that as Piper sensed that Leo had more to say. She came to stand beside him, resting a hand on his arm and leaning into his shoulder. "And you're afraid," she murmured. "I saw your face when Chris called you Leo. You're scared that if we tell him about the bad timeline that he'll hate you for another life's mistakes."

Leo met her eyes, the fear and the guilt from the failure of the first chance shining through unshed tears. "We can't keep them from finding out, but we can protect them from the truth for as long as possible."

Piper nodded, enjoying the warmth of her husband's embrace as they thought over all of the things that they had learned. Twenty years down the line they would be together and happy, have three brilliant and powerful children in a future devoid of the darkness that they had fought to change. "I guess we got our answer then; whether or not I can keep you safe, if we could get through this rough patch."

"I never doubted that we would for a moment," Leo smiled. "Though it's nice to have a goal."

"We should follow our therapist's advice more often."

* * *

**The Halliwell Manor – 2027**

Even hours after being cured, Chris still felt the after-effects of the poison. He was exhausted and his body ached, and to top it all off he was developing the early symptoms of a migraine. As such, when things had settled down and Wyatt had gone back to his apartment, Chris had opted to stay at the Manor, hiding in the darkness of his old room.

He lay sprawled on top of the duvet, still fully clothed, eyes closed as he let his body recuperate. His mind was a mess as the memories he had been forced to relive played out again and again. He could feel the emotional scars anew, no matter how many times he told himself that the events that had caused them technically never happened.

It was while he was caught up in his own thoughts that he missed the knock on his door. As usual though, his little sister didn't require his permission to enter anyway, and moments later she stood in the doorway, backlit by the painfully bright hallway light.

Even with his eyes closed the brightness sent spikes of pain through his head. He groaned irritably and waved a hand, shutting the door with his telekinesis. Melinda smiled sympathetically and then came and perched next to him on the bed, her legs swinging over the edge. Quietly, she asked "How you feeling?"

"Fantastic," came Chris's sarcastic reply, his arms that were folded across his face muffling his voice.

"So, do you want to tell me why you thoughts are such a mess?" Melinda asked with a quirked brow. Chris lowered his arms, opening his eyes just a crack so that he could glare at her for the invasion of privacy. She shrugged. "I tried to block you out, but I could hear you from downstairs and I kinda figured that you needed to talk."

"I don't need to talk," Chris grumbled. "I need to sleep."

Melinda sighed patiently, understanding her brother's reluctance. She had had barely a glance at his other life and it had been enough to scare the crap out of her. "You were in the bad timeline, weren't you?" Chris threw her a questioning look. "When you woke up, you called Dad 'Leo'."

"Great, now he's gonna be paranoid for the next twenty-three years," he huffed, rolling his eyes. Grudgingly he pulled himself upright and leaned his back against the headboard, knowing that Melinda wouldn't leave until they talked.

"What did you see?"

Chris shrugged. "A whole bunch of random stuff that I would rather forget."

"But…?" Melinda prompted. Her brother was trying his best to put up his mental walls but with his thoughts as disorganised as they were she could still read him like a book.

"I don't know. They kinda… They kinda felt like a warning," Chris tried to explain the feeling that had settled in his gut. Some instinct was telling him that the memories he was shown weren't random; that somehow they were important and connected and that he should somehow know something that he didn't. "Something bad is coming. Something _really_ bad."

"An 'unforeseen' yet somehow 'inevitable' future?"

Chris smirked. "The Elders got to you too, huh?"

Melinda scowled as she recalled her earlier run-in with Sandra. "Yeah, one of them came down off her high horse to personally tell me to back off. They want us to stop trying to find a way to save you, that we're somehow making things worse. I told her where to shove it."

A guilty look flittered across Chris's face. "Actually… as much as it pains me to say this, on this singular occasion, the Elders might possibly be…"

"Don't you dare say it."

"…right." Chris finished. Melinda turned away from him angrily, lurching to her feet in frustration. "Look, I'm not saying that I'm giving up, and no, I really don't want to die; but at some point we're gonna have to accept that some things are inevitable..."

"Really, Chris? We're gonna have this conversation again?" Melinda snapped, ignoring the flinch of pain the volume of her voice caused him. "I thought we'd gone over this, I thought we agreed…"

"We have, and I do!" Chris interrupted, sitting up straighter as he tried to get his point across. "I'm all too aware of the hundred and sixty-four days I've got left and I want to spend them trying to find a way to extend my sentence, but at the same time I don't want to waste them on false hope either!"

"You can't have it both ways, Chris. Either you want to change your fate, or you don't."

They stared each other down for almost a full minute. Melinda waited for his decision but could tell by the confliction in his eyes that he couldn't.

"Fine. If you don't care, neither do I."

"Mel…" Chris tried as his sister spun on her heel and marched out the door. His plea went unheeded though as she purposely slammed it, making his headache worsen.

_Damnnit._

* * *

**Reviews are much appreciated! :P**


	7. Paved With Good Intentions

**Charmed -:- Borrowed Time**

**Episode Summary:**

With Chris's deadline rapidly approaching, Melinda makes a desperate and reckless decision. A deal with a demon leaves every Halliwell powerless – and the Underworld knows it. Now while demons, warlocks and the like try their luck at offing the Charmed Ones and their progeny, the Halliwells must find a way to restore their magic before time runs out…

**Author's Note(s): **

SORRY FOR THE DELAY! Distracted by those pesky shiny things…

Thanks, as always, go to the fantastic people who reviewed (absolutely ages ago…):

First to **Guest** (which I'm assuming is** locksleylass** – massive apologies if I'm wrong…) though I haven't read the comics I know that Melinda is a part of their canon which is where I got her, and the names of all the cousins from, but you're right about her not being in the show's canon – I hope that clears that up! **Lizardmomma **– thanks again! Keep this up and there may just be a cyber-cookie in this for you! And then **Anonymous**, you should most definitely get an account – and soon! Thanks for reviewing! To **Caffeinated Star**, you are completely right about this fic needing some input from Paige and Phoebe and co, and you have actually inspired an extra chapter! The whole family makes an appearance in this chap as well – so extra thanks! And lastly, **Iaveina**, glad I got a laugh and I'm just grateful for the reviews I've got! Thanks all around!

And just added: to **petites sorcieres **and **Crystalzap **super thanks for kick-starting my traitorous muse who had run off to other fandoms and plagued me with distracting plot bunnies. She is now firmly back in her cage and ready to start writing! Sorry for the delay...again!

Right, now – this chapter is set three months before Chris's deadline, and surprisingly, has no time-travelling notes to go with it! _Phew!_ (The next chapter does though…) On another note, I am selectively, semi-following the comics in regards to the characters; though I've taken liberties with ages and powers and I've made up Phoebe's third daughter's name…

But I've gone on enough – ENJOY!

* * *

**Seven -:- Paved With Good Intentions**

**The Matthews-Mitchell Residence, San Francisco**

"You need a haircut."

Henry Jr. glared at his older sister through a curtain of dark hair, before returning his attention to his breakfast. Tamora grinned broadly, and then turned to her twin, Kat who shook her head disapprovingly. "He's going through a phase. Mom said that we weren't allowed to tease him."

"It's not a phase," Henry Jr. insisted, jabbing his spoon at the pair of them. His naturally brown hair was at least two-shades darker, his nails were painted black and he wore a t-shirt declaring his eternal devotion to some pre-historic band. He was fifteen and he already carried the woe of the world on his shoulders. His brightly-coloured and perky sisters didn't look convinced. "It's not!"

"I can't wait until you're older and I get to show you pictures of this," Tamora said wistfully.

"Well, at least it's not as bad as your fairy phase," Kat pointed out, deciding to play mediator. She may only have been a few minutes younger than her twin, but somehow that had led to her being the referee between Tamora and their adopted younger brother.

Tamora's face flushed red in embarrassment even as she tried to retaliate. "Really? You want to go there? Because if I remember rightly while I liked fairies you were obsessed with…"

"Good morning!" Paige greeted brightly as she swept into the kitchen, stealing a piece of toast off of her son's plate and filling her husband's mug with coffee. All three of her children inwardly groaned at her overly-bright disposition. Had she always been this much of a morning person? "You three need to hurry up or you'll miss the bus, and your father will kill me if I have to orb you again!"

"Well… maybe if _we_ could orb…" Tam hissed under her breath as her father entered the room desperately searching for his keys. Beside her Kat twitched slightly, silently agreeing with her sister's comment that neither of their parents had heard; or would even be willing to listen to. Magic was a soft spot in the Matthews-Mitchell house, due to the fact that the twins were the only members of the next generation to have their powers bound when they were children – and they were staying that way until they were at least eighteen.

It was to protect them, their parents insisted. Apparently Tam had accidently blown up part of the house while she was still in a pram and their father and pushed their usually liberal mother into agreeing that the twins were too young for their magic. Adopted from the womb of a dying Charge, Henry Jr. had always been a mortal, much to his annoyance, and in a way it had kind of made sense to keep all the children on a fair and equal playing field. But that was back in the era of peace following the Ultimate Battle. Now their oldest cousins were fighting demons on a weekly basis, though the Charmed generation remained oblivious, and it frustrated the twins to no end that they were helpless and useless.

But there was no point starting this argument again. It always ended the same way: _we'll discuss this when you're older. As your parents we make the important decisions until you're adult enough to make them yourselves. No is no, and that's final._

So Tamora just sighed bitterly as she finished her breakfast and watched the daily pantomime of 'where did the faeries hide dad's keys?' As always, they were in his jacket from the day before, and disaster was averted once again. Breakfast was finished as the sound of the school bus's horn signalled from the street outside. Another day at human high school while the rest of their cousin's at least got the choice as to whether they would rather study at Magic School.

Begrudgingly the three teenagers traipsed out the door, Tam turning at the last minute to catch a glimpse of their mother adorning her teacher's cloak and orbing to the pocket realm where she taught the magic that she kept from her own children.

_Hypocrite._

* * *

**The Cooper-Halliwell Residence, San Francisco**

"So how's Stanford treating you?" Phoebe Halliwell asked into the phone that was propped on her shoulder as she manhandled a load of laundry into the washer. "Studying hard, I hope, and no wild parties and any of that fun student stuff, you hear?"

She could practically hear the eye-roll over the line as her oldest daughter, P.J. Halliwell, sighed patiently. _"Yes Mom, lots of studying. In fact that's what I'm doing right now. I'm drowning in textbooks. And I haven't had the _time_ for any wild parties, so don't worry about that."_

"I'm your mother, it's my job to worry," Phoebe replied automatically, grunting the last syllable as she forced the final items into the machine.

"_What _are _you doing?"_

"Laundry," Phoebe gave a small cheer of success once the washer was full and started pouring in a colourful array of soap powders. "You know, maybe you should come home. I've grown lazy after years of having you doing the chores; I can barely remember what I'm doing." She slammed the lid closed and set the programming, giving the machine a wary look when it made an ominous noise. Maybe she had overloaded it a little…

"_What was that?"_

"Nothing!" Phoebe chimed, walking away from the washer very quickly and taking a seat on the couch in the front room. "You know, I was considering leaving all the laundry and having you do it when you came back for Christmas break… but then I started running out of clothes and your sisters were beginning to smell."

P.J. laughed at her mother's immaturity, feeling a little sorry for her younger siblings. "_You know that it's meant to be the other way round, right? I'm meant to come home with a massive bag of dirty clothes that you're just desperate to wash for me because you've missed me so much."_

Phoebe sighed forlornly as the smiling faces of her family beamed down at her from the many photo frames that filled the room. "I do miss you, so much. I love you Ladybug."

"_I love you too, Mom," _P.J replied, and then gave a short laugh. _"But you make it sound like I'm on the other side of the world. It's less than an hour's drive and what, a millisecond by transportation potion?"_

"I know, I know," Phoebe smiled, secretly glad that her daughter hadn't moved all that far away. Halliwells had always been a tight bunch due to their heritage and duty; the thought of her daughter being alone on the other side of the country had scared the crap out of her. But it was true that she could be home in an instant with a transportation potion, and the family wasn't exactly short on teleporters… "But it's the principal. Why did you have to move into the dorms again?"

Phoebe sensed another eye-roll and grinned to herself as she imagined her daughter's exasperated expression. "_Because I'm the third oldest of my generation and it was my turn to do the whole freedom and independence thing?"_

"Yeah, I get it," Phoebe smirked. At P.J.'s age she had been living alone in New York; as far away as she could afford from her family, so she understood completely the need for space, especially in a family four times the size as the one she ran away from. "But I still miss you. Maybe we should meet up for coffee and shopping this week? If you can escape the wrath of the textbooks that is."

"_That sounds good, though it might have to be your treat, I'm still looking for a job and those textbooks that are smothering me aren't cheap_," P.J. subtly hinted for an increase in her allowance, which Phoebe pretended not to notice. _"So how are my smelly sisters then?"_

"Not so smelly anymore, I'm doing laundry, remember?" Phoebe curled up on the couch nursing a lukewarm mug of coffee. "And they're alright… I think."

"_You think?"_

"Well, Uncle Leo and Aunt Paige say that they're both doing well at Magic School, and it looks like Parker's going to graduate with good grades at the end of the year, but…" Phoebe trailed off, requiring P.J. to prompt her to continue. "I'm worried about Peyton. We still don't know her ability yet, and she's been very quiet lately…"

"_Mom, she's thirteen in a family where most of us were vanquishing upper-level demons at her age_," P.J. explained. "_She's probably feeling a little left behind. Get Mel to talk to her. As a fellow baby-sibling and late bloomer maybe she can make her feel better_."

Phoebe nodded, hesitating slightly. P.J. sensed the tension and waited patiently for her mother to figure out what it was she wanted to say. "But it's more than that… I haven't even told your father this… he's been so busy lately…"

"_Mom…"_

"Peyton's been having nightmares for the past few weeks," Phoebe finally admitted. "Last night while Parker was at a friends and your father was working, she woke up screaming. I ran into her room to try and calm her down but she was hysterical. She kept saying that the darkness was coming. I've kept her home from school today, she was so shaken up. I've never seen her so scared in my life."

There came a thoughtful silence from Stanford as Phoebe chewed on her lip worriedly. _"You don't think that Peyton inherited your power of premonition… do you?"_

Phoebe closed her eyes. "God, I hope not. Whatever she saw was really bad. I don't think we're ready for that anymore."

"_We might have to be."_

* * *

**The Halliwell Manor**

The flickering of candle light created distorted shadows in the semi-darkness of the attic. The white pillars of wax were assembled in a large circle, lines of salt forming a pentagram from the points. In the centre was a small altar covered in a collection of gemstones and potion ingredients, as well as a cauldron and what appeared to be a small lantern. Inside the lantern burned a small tealight candle, though its flame was an odd shade of crimson that barely gave off any light.

Kneeling at the altar was Melinda Halliwell. She was home alone, aside from the rather disconcerting presence of the demon that stood just outside of the salt lines. She passed her an unconcerned glance; she was here on her invitation after all, waiting for her next instruction.

"All you need to do is say the spell."

Melinda took a deep breath to psych herself up and studied the spell one last time. It was what she had been searching for the last three months, ever since Chris had quit and she had been left to try and save him on her own. It was a spell that would remove all the magic from her family line and store it in the lantern before her. It would make every Halliwell mortal.

And if they were just ordinary humans, they couldn't possibly be expected to fight the coming darkness._ They_ would be the Innocents that needed protecting. They would be unworthy as sacrifices.

Chris wouldn't need to die.

"Say the spell," the demon repeated. Her name was Azazel, and she was a deceptively beautiful young woman. She wore casual human clothes, not the usual leather of the Underworld from which she haled. The only thing that gave away her true age was the centuries of experience in her eyes; her cold, hard expression the only tell that she wasn't as innocent as she appeared. Melinda knew that the demon was dangerous, she wasn't an idiot, but she was desperate and so she had allied with Azazel regardless of the consequences. "This is what you want, correct?"

Melinda nodded. "Yes."

"Then say the spell, and your family will be free."

_A gift or curse throughout all time,  
__The magic of the Halliwell line  
__Like a burden, our terrible fate  
__I change it now, to lift the weight  
__So in the darkness of this hour  
__Vanish the words, vanish our powers _

A wind picked up inside the attic, emanating from the circle of candles in a cyclone of ice cold air. Fear momentarily spiked through Melinda as she looked to her demon cohort for reassurance that the spell had worked. Azazel simply smiled, the unnatural expression doing nothing to put the young witch at ease. But then an odd sensation curled in the pit of her stomach and she closed her eyes with a small gasp.

White lights lifted from her and swirled uncertainly above her head, before being drawn to the red flame inside the lantern. The wind continued to spin around Melinda as more bright orbs were summoned and trapped within the spell's enchantments.

Once the air settled, smoke rising from extinguished candles and the salt lines scattered, Melinda let out a relieved sigh.

It was silent.

The whispers that had plagued her for as long as she could remember were gone. No longer could she hear the private thoughts of others. A small smile lifted her lips as she slowly opened her eyes and took in the mess that she had made of the attic. "It worked."

"Even better than I had hoped."

Azazel smirked as she stepped into Melinda's line of sight, the lantern hanging callously from her hand. The powers of every living member of the Halliwell line resided in the eerie crimson flame that flared taller than should be possible. "Thank you ever so much for your co-operation. I'll be taking my payment now."

As Azazel shimmered away, part of Melinda wanted to jump up and try and stop her, to take back what she had just done. But the rest of her… the rest of her was just glad that the magic that had caused her family so many problems was gone.

They were free.

* * *

**Silver Moon, Los Angeles, California**

The small occult shop was situated down a back street amongst a warren of alleyways; not lending itself to passing trade, but it survived nicely on its clientele of magical creatures that lived in the state. It was a ramshackle old building with the glass of its front window smoked out, hiding its dark interior. Chris smiled to himself as he approached the familiar store. He was glad that there were some things that would never change; whichever timeline he was in.

A security camera peered down from beneath the guttering, so Chris had orbed in a few alleys away to avoid exposure. He knew that the owners would never use the footage, they were his Charges after all, but it was better safe than sorry.

The bell above the door jingled loudly as he entered, his senses immediately assaulted by the heavy scent of incense and the grating tones of new age music over the tinny speakers. Shelves and tables full of trinkets and gemstones cluttered the tiny space, an aisle barely wide enough for him to fit down leading up to the counter at the back of the store. "Morning Chris!"

"Hey Alicia," Chris greeted as he came to lean on the counter, looking down at his rather short Charge that stood on a stool on the other side. She was petite and slim, her long dark hair tied back into a ponytail that accentuated her delicate features. She was the polar opposite of her husband Ben; his foreboding frame casting Chris in shadow as he came through the drapes that led from out the back. "You called?"

"A demon attacked the shop this morning…"

"What?" Chris interrupted in surprise. "But when you called there was no urgency – I would have been here sooner…"

"It was nothing we couldn't handle," Ben grumbled, folding his muscular arms across his chest and looking very bored. Chris knew from experience he was not a witch to be trifled with, and he was never one to ask for help from others. He was far too stubborn for that. "I didn't want to call you at all, but Ally insisted."

Alicia sighed with long-suffering patience. "That's because this wasn't the first attack, and this one was during business hours. Magic was nearly exposed!"

"But it wasn't and every demon was vanquished," Ben retorted. "I don't see the problem."

"What type of demon were they?" Chris interjected.

Ben shrugged. "Wasn't really looking."

"It was a lower level demon each time, although this morning… well, he was a little tougher than the others, and I sensed something 'off' about him," Alicia added, and then she hopped down from her stool to rummage beneath the counter. After a moment she returned with a bundle of cloth that she unwrapped to reveal an ancient looking atheme. "He left this behind. We can't find it in our Book of Shadows or any of our books – and we've got a lot of them. Do you reckon the Elders will know what it is or who he was?"

Chris picked up the blade to give it a closer look, running his finger over a carving in the handle. He vaguely recognised the symbol but couldn't place it. "I can ask. Can't guarantee that I'll get an answer though."

Ben grunted. "They still all wrapped up in their Doomsday prediction?"

"Ben," Alicia admonished. "It's a serious threat. Something really bad is coming, I can feel it every waking moment, and the increase in demon attacks can't just be a coincidence. This past year things have been getting steadily worse; however I fear the gravest is yet to come."

"Have you seen anything?" Chris asked. While Ben was the brawn of this outfit, Alicia was the brains, her ability as a seer revered in the Magical Community.

She shook her head. "That's just it. I _can't _see anything. It's as if there's nothing to see. It's like the future has simply… disappeared, leaving only darkness in its wake."

Chris knew to take Alicia's predictions seriously, even if her husband didn't look in the slightest bit convinced. She had been right way too many times in the bad timeline for him to ignore her. With every soothsayer in the world promising the same thing, he knew that there was no escaping whatever it was that was coming. And somehow, if the Elders were to be believed, he was going to end up right in the middle of it. So what else was new?

"I'll get the Elders to have a look at this," Chris held up the re-wrapped knife as he turned to head back out of the store. "You guys be careful and call me if another demon attacks. I'm not just a Whitelighter you know."

Ben grunted something about not needing any help as he disappeared out the back. Alicia smiled apologetically at Chris as she waved him off. The pair of them really were an odd couple.

Once back outside, Chris hung a left back down the alleyways he had traversed on his way there, his feet taking the path automatically from the amount of times he had walked it in his two lifetimes. Above him the autumn sun shone weakly, barely clearing the shadows cast by the tall buildings, a chill breeze whistling through the gaps. Some distance away the sounds of the busy city could be heard, but the society of alleys seemed so far removed from civilisation that it was hard to believe that they were in the middle of the city.

As he turned down a backstreet that ended in a dead end, Chris came to a sudden stop. Every sense went on high alert as he felt a strange sensation throughout his body. Instantly he knew that something wasn't right and he instinctively tensed in a ready stance.

He felt a puff of displaced air on his skin that after years of being hunted he recognised as shimmering, followed by the quiet scuff of heavy boots on concrete. There was a demon behind him. As the distinctive sizzle of an energy ball being formed reached his ears, Chris spun, grabbing the wrist of the ignited hand and twisting it as he brought his other arm round. He still held the wrapped knife, and it made a satisfactory _clonk_ as it collided with the demons head.

A millisecond had passed from the arrival of the first demon, and just as he began to drop, more of his kindred materialised. Chris made to use his telekinesis to throw the energy ball at the nearest demon, but nothing happened. Instead he used the knife as a bat, sending the ball into the second demon's chest and igniting it in flame.

Disconcerted by his lack of telekinesis, Chris jumped back from the first demon and put some distance between him and them. Unfortunately that put the wall behind him and trapped him completely, but it bought him a moment to think. Just in case, he gave orbing a try, but as he expected, nothing happened. Somehow his powers were gone, but he doubted that the lower level demons facing him were responsible. So what was going on?

Without powers, Chris turned to the only weapon he had left; the atheme. Okay, so he didn't know what it was or if it had any magic power, but right now it was all he had. As the demons advanced, grinning at their turn of good fortune, Chris unwrapped the blade and held it ready. It had been a long time since he had had to fight with a knife.

He ducked the first energy ball that came at him, using the crouched position to propel him towards its creator that soon found the knife buried up to the hilt in its chest. He kicked another demon away who had tried to sneak up on him as the first burst into flames. With the blade now free, Chris swung it in a wide arc, slashing an advancing demon across the throat. The demon that he had kicked was still off-balance, so Chris capitalised and stabbed it in the back.

But the demons still kept coming, and even with his considerable skill, he found himself losing very quickly. A large demon grabbed him by his shirt collar, lifting him several feet from the ground, and tossed him against the wall. Chris's head collided with the bricks, making his vision flash white for a moment.

When his vision cleared, he found the previously crowded alleyway to be unexpectedly empty. All that was left was a tall, leather clad figure with long golden brown hair, a knife dripping with demon blood held loosely by her side. Chris blinked, fearing his head wound was worse than he thought; but when she didn't disappear he found himself whispering her name in surprise. "Bianca…?"

She turned slightly at his voice, her grip tightening on the blade. But Chris didn't sense any intent from her, and for some strange reason, he wasn't afraid. It hadn't been that long since the woman before him had kidnapped his Charge and nearly killed them both, shattering his illusion of his Bianca from the bad timeline. And yet, as she stood there before him, he couldn't tell the difference anymore. "Bianca… why did you…?"

"Save your life?" she finished. She then shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not entirely sure."

"Well, thanks anyway," Chris replied. His head was thumping and he felt dizzy, so he remained where he was on the floor, leaning against the wall for support with his legs sprawled in front of him. "That was some nice timing. How did you know I was in trouble?" He paused. "Have you been following me?"

Bianca flinched, the same way she always had when she didn't want to admit to something. Chris smiled to himself, not in the slightest bit creeped out by his alternate fiancé's stalkerish tendencies. She was a hunter after all. "You're the one that got away. I've never failed before. I had to know why," she muttered after a moment of silence. "Why did your brother let me go? How do you know me?"

Chris smirked. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Why do you trust me?" Bianca asked quietly. She turned around completely, her brown eyes wide as she finally met his gaze. Chris looked up at her to see _his_ Bianca looking back, and a small smile played across his face. "After what happened to Alyssa, I _hate_ the Halliwells. I vowed revenge, and I was so close to getting it. I left you with a Darklighter arrow in your chest, and yet here you are, defenceless, and not the slightest bit afraid. I don't understand."

Chris shrugged, and then used the wall to drag himself back to his feet. Bianca took a step back at the movement, her grip on her knife tightening. "It's a really long story that I would love to tell you sometime. But for now, let's just say I knew you in another life, and we were friends."

"A Halliwell and a demon? That I find hard to believe."

"Actually, you're a witch, but I'll forgive the misconception," Chris retorted automatically, her words from the bad timeline spilling from his lips. Bianca just blinked at him, her expression a mask of confusion and surprise.

"I'm still a killer," she said dangerously. "I could end these… doubts… right now, simply by finishing my mission. I should kill you."

Chris spread his arms invitingly as if to goad her into taking a shot. Bianca didn't move. "But you won't," he said simply. "And you don't know why, which is paradoxically why you can't."

Bianca cocked her head to one side as she tried to process that statement. After a moment she concluded that she couldn't, and her knife disappeared as she relaxed her posture. "So… we should call a truce? Between the Halliwells and the Phoenix coven?"

"We won't vanquish you, if you don't try to kill us or our Charges," Chris agreed, and then extended a hand that Bianca tentatively took. She smiled slightly, the expression looking awkward and unpractised. Chris then looked around, realising that he still couldn't orb and that he was a long way from home. "As part of this new truce… could I possibly borrow some cab fare?"

Bianca grinned. "I have a better idea."

* * *

**Magic School**

Wyatt Halliwell had never spent this much time in the library; not even when he had been a student at Magic School. He had never been much of a book learner like his little brother; he was more about instinct and learning by doing. But now that the Elders had dropped the bombshell about an unknown looming threat on the horizon, Wyatt figured that there was a first time for everything.

This was why he found himself squinting in the low light of the gloomy space, trying desperately to cram as much information as he could into his head. He was the Twice Blessed and as such it was his responsibility to stop any massive threats, no matter how vague they were. The lack of information to go on was leading him to having a lot of demons to research, and not a lot of criteria with which to narrow things down. But that didn't matter. He would vanquish every demon in the Underworld if he had to.

The tiny font in the book he was reading began to blur before his eyes and Wyatt slammed it closed with an irritated grunt. He was getting nowhere fast and he knew it. He had been at this for days now and he felt no closer than he had been when he'd started. He was close to caving and asking his brother for help – Chris was like a walking Book of Shadows when it came to these things. But Wyatt shoved that thought aside. Chris had had to save the world enough times, it was Wyatt's turn.

He would find a way, even if he ended up going cross-eyed in the process.

As he tried to focus on the next book, his vision swam and a dizzy spell hit. He shook his head slightly to get rid of the odd feeling. "That was weird," he muttered to himself once the feeling had passed. He still felt a little different, but he simply put it down to spending too much time reading and ignored it. He had more important things to worry about.

It was another ten or twenty minutes later before Wyatt realised just what the strange feeling had really been. He came to the end of another useless book and cast it to one side, and then made to orb the next one down from off the shelf. But nothing happened. He tried a few more times, initially figuring that he was just tired, but soon finding that that wasn't the case. He couldn't orb, use his force field or any of his powers. His powers were gone.

"What the hell?" he asked as he climbed to his feet, his research temporarily forgotten. Who had managed to take his magic away? They would have to be pretty damn powerful… and why? When? How had he not noticed? And was he the only one? When no one responded to his calls, he pulled out his cell phone and dialled Chris's number. "We've got a serious problem. My powers are gone."

"_Yours too?"_ Chris replied, not at all bothered by the lack of pleasantries. _"Where are you?"_

"Magic School, you?"

"_I'm just entering the Manor, Mel are you here?" _he yelled into the house as Wyatt heard the door close behind him. After a moment there was a muffled reply from their sister. _"Are your powers working? Crap. What the hell is going on?"_

"If I knew it wouldn't be as much of a problem now, would it?" Wyatt retorted, his patience drained from his endless research. Chris didn't seem to mind the tone though; he was too busy trying to think of answers to his own question to notice. "You two should get here so we can try and figure this out."

There came another incoherent comment from Melinda that Chris apparently agreed with. "_Yeah Wy, we're on our way n… _crap."

"Chris?" Wyatt attempted to keep the panic out of his voice. But when there was no reply other than the distant sounds of a struggle and indistinct shouts of alarm, he didn't bother the second time. "Chris? Mel?"

Something smashed, someone yelled… and then there was nothing but the dial tone.

* * *

**Stanford University**

P.J Halliwell had always been told that her college years would be the most fun she would ever have. They neglected to tell her that they would also be the hardest. Maybe it was her own fault for trying to major in two subjects; Psychology and English lit, at the same time, or maybe it was because she had never been overly interested in the partying side of the lifestyle. Whatever the reason, she rarely ever found herself outside of her classes or her dorm room, quite possibly making her the most anti-social person on campus.

But the only person that seemed to bother was her polar opposite room mate who was currently sleeping off last night's bender on the couch. P.J sighed as the drunk in question rolled over with a loud snore and incoherent mumble. Maybe she wasn't missing out after all.

Returning to her studies, P.J rubbed her head absent-mindedly. She had just had a weird dizzy spell and now a headache was forming right behind her eyes. She ignored it though, she had to get the reading done before her class in the morning or she'd end up falling behind. And with two majors, she knew it would be a nightmare to try and catch up.

Just as she was refocusing on the words of T.S Eliot, her cell phone began ringing loudly. Her roommate snapped something that can't be printed at the sudden noise, and P.J smirked as she purposely let it ring a little longer. But then she saw the caller ID – _Home_ – and an odd instinctual feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. She had not long got off the phone with her mom who had said that she needed to pop out for a while. Which meant that the only one left at home was… "Peyton?"

"_P.J! You need to come home _now_!" _her baby sister's panicked voice came over the static of the poor connection.

"Alright, I'm on my way – what's wrong?" P.J asked, trying to sound calm and objective while her heartbeat doubled its pace in fear. She scrabbled to her feet sending textbooks crashing to the floor, though she paid them little mind. She quickly found the bag of potions she had hidden under her bed, searching for the specific one she needed.

"_Demons are coming! Mom's gone and I'm all alone and they're gonna_…" Peyton sucked in a breath as she tried to stop her frightened rambling. "_I need you P.J!"_

P.J found the transportation potion, and then threw her mostly comatose roommate a glance. Satisfied that she wouldn't notice the magic, P.J hung up her phone, pocketed it, and threw the vial at her feet. After years of using the potion on a regular basis she barely noticed the flip-flop sensation in her stomach anymore, nor the disconcerting feeling of being yanked by her navel as she was thrown across the city in a millisecond.

When she rematerialized in the kitchen of her old home she was immediately on alert. She cast out her senses, trying to tap into her empathy to figure out what was going on, but was confused to find that she sensed nothing. If Peyton was in danger, she should at the very least be able to pick up on her fear… unless… unless she was too late…

"P.J!"

The older witch's head snapped round at the shout to see her little sister come running into the room. Pale and clearly freaked out, Peyton ran straight into P.J's arms as if clinging on for dear life. But P.J didn't see any demons. She didn't sense any danger… or anything else for that matter, so just what on earth was going on? "What's wrong? Where are the demons?"

"We have to get out of here now!" Peyton pulled out of the embrace and grabbed for the shoulder bag of potions P.J had brought with her. As she rummaged through the canvas bag she explained disjointedly "I saw them… they're coming… we can't win we have to go… our powers… we have to get to Magic School now!"

"Okay, okay!" P.J replied, not understanding in the slightest but going along with her crazy sister regardless. Was this what their mother had told her about that morning? Peyton's nightmares, her strange behaviour… was it paranoia – or clairvoyance?

That question was answered a moment later when several demons shimmered into the kitchen. Peyton froze in her search for the elusive second transportation potion while P.J purposely put herself between her youngest sibling and the threat. The closest demon created and threw an energy ball at her, so P.J used her empathy to mimic the ability and deflect it back. But nothing happened.

"Get down!" Peyton yelled as she grabbed P.J's shoulders and pulled, dragging both of them behind the meagre protection of the island counter. The energy ball collided with the cupboard above and behind them, showering them with its now broken contents. "What part of 'our powers are gone' did you not get?"

"The part where you didn't actually say that?" P.J retorted, exasperation in her tone. Peyton rolled her eyes and handed a few potions from the bag to her sister, before resuming her search for their escape route. Through sheer luck, the potion that P.J threw blindly over the counter found its mark, vanquishing a demon in a pillar of hellfire. She threw a few more, but knew that there were more demons than she had potions – they had to get out of there. "Haven't you found it yet?"

"It's your bag! I can't help it if it's a mess!" Peyton snapped back, before finally grabbing the right vial. "Got it!"

"Then use it!"

"Oh…" she threw the vial at the floor between them, desperately thinking of Magic School, the place they needed to be if they were ever going to sort out this mess. Abruptly they both vanished from their home and reappeared in the library of Magic School, and away from any immediate danger. Peyton took a deep breath to get her heart rate under control, ignoring the concerned look she got from her older sister. She was thirteen for crying out loud, she wasn't meant to deal well under pressure!

It was then that the two sisters realised that they were not the only occupants of the room. Standing between them and the door to the manor was Wyatt, a worried expression on his face and a cell phone being crushed in his hand. He looked caught between running after whatever bad news he had just received and asking…

"What the hell is going on?"

All three whipped around at the new voice, belonging to Paige Matthews as she swept into the room, her teachers cloak flapping around her ankles. Behind her were Parker, looking a little sheepish, and Leo. It was becoming clear that the power-loss issue was affecting nearly all of the Halliwell clan.

"You know, I was just about to ask that same question," P.J replied with just a touch of sarcasm. She looked down at Peyton, who simply shrugged. She didn't know anything beyond the obvious either, despite her new found psychic powers.

Before anyone else could ask another variation of the same question, the door to the manor suddenly flew open. Something slammed against an invisible barrier, one of the pocket realm's protection charms that prevented evil from entering, and then a rather dishevelled looking Melinda came running through. She skidded to a stop, looking back at the door expectantly. Wyatt was immediately next to her "Where's Chris?"

"He was right…" she trailed off as she pointed at the doorway, and Wyatt made to go through and find out what was keeping his younger brother. But then the brunette appeared, slamming the door behind him and leaning against it, ever-so-slightly out of breath. "…there." Mel finished with a relieved smile.

"There are demons in the manor," Chris informed them. Melinda arched a brow at him. "Okay, there are a _lot_ of demons in the manor. And they seemed to know that we aren't exactly at full power at the moment."

"Great, so a demon, warlock, or whatever has stolen our powers, and then sent a horde of henchmen after us to kick us while we're down?" P.J summarised. The likelihood of her completing that reading for her course was getting pretty low. But that was really besides the issue right now. "So what do we do?"

"We need to find your mothers and get them here," Paige decided. "The demons will be targeting them as well."

Leo nodded in agreement. "What about Henry and your kids?"

Paige chewed her lip in worry, "I'll call and let them know what's going on, but I don't think they will be targeted. They've always been powerless and the Underworld has never really shown an interest in them, but I'd be happier knowing that they were safe."

The half-cupid sisters worked on locating Piper and Phoebe while Paige set about calling her family, leaving Leo and his children alone for a moment. Melinda had become unusually quiet, taking a seat at one of the tables and staring at the floor as if it were riveting. The boys looked as if they were itching for a fight, and as Leo approached, Wyatt immediately asked "so what do you want us to do?"

"We'll need the Book," Chris interrupted before Leo could reply.

Leo looked a little taken aback. "Didn't you just say that the manor is full of demons?"

"All the more reason to go and get the Book before they find a way to get it themselves," Chris shrugged nonchalantly, as if the idea of taken on an army of demons while powerless was no sweat. Wyatt threw him a sidelong glance, but didn't say anything.

"The Book has plenty of protection spells, I'm sure it will be fine until we sort this out," Leo replied, though he sounded unconvinced. To be honest, he was worried about the Book as well; he just didn't want to send his sons on a mission that was clearly incredibly dangerous. "And I don't think we stand a good enough chance of getting it right now."

Chris smirked, "Yeah, but we'll need it to sort this out. Besides, there's a spell we can use that will evict all the demons and protect the manor from further attacks."

"There is?" Both Leo and Wyatt asked at the same time.

"Yeah, I used to use it all the time to protect the safe houses. Alright," he shrugged, not seeming to realise that he had just openly spoken about the bad timeline without severe prodding. "It's a ward that doesn't actually do the whole 'evicting' part, but I'm sure I could alter it a little."

There came a brief silence after that, with Wyatt and Leo sharing a look, silently communicating the fact that they had both noticed something odd was going on. Chris just looked impatient as if he were unfamiliar with the concept of asking for permission. After a moment, Leo conceded. "Fine, you can go, but you have to promise me that you will be careful and not take any unnecessary risks. If things go bad, you come back here straight away, got that?"

"Yes sir," Chris mock saluted, and then smacked Wyatt lightly on the shoulder. "Come on, I'll show you the ward."

As Leo watched the two of them wander off he sighed to himself. Something was wrong with Chris; that much he had got from the strange behaviour, but for now they had bigger problems. Though he was reluctant to do so, Leo set that issue aside and turned back to the others. Paige was just finishing a call as he approached "Are they alright?"

Paige nodded "Yeah, the kids are still at school so the threat of exposure should prevent an attack from happening there, but Henry's dropping out of work early to pick them up anyway. They'll go straight home and set up some crystals to keep them safe while we figure this out."

"Good," Leo replied with a small smile. It had been a long time since the family had been threatened like this, it was a relief to know that they all still knew how to protect themselves. Paige glanced past him, saw Chris and Wyatt head back through the door to the manor, and gave Leo a questioning look. "The boys are going to go get the Book and hopefully fumigate the manor of demons."

"Is that a good idea?" Paige asked, concerned. She then caught on to the last part of his sentence. "Wait… how are they gonna do that?"

Leo shrugged. "I'm not entirely sure."

* * *

**The Halliwell Manor**

When the boys stepped through the door, the manor was unexpectedly quiet.

There were no demons waiting for them, no obvious ambush prepared. If it weren't for the fact that there were still scorch marks and broken furniture scattered about from the earlier attack, it would have appeared as if nothing were wrong. The two of them shared a look before silently descending the stairs. At the bottom of the steps they each went their separate ways. The ward Chris knew needed to be cast at both the front and back doors, and so in the interest of time they had prearranged their targets.

Warily, Chris made the short walk to the front door, his senses on alert and the atheme from his Charges gripped tightly in his hand. It didn't take him long to draw out the intricate symbol with the marker he had stolen from the Magic School library; he had drawn it enough times in his past life. He then cut his finger with the blade, using his blood to finish the old magic. The tiniest glimmer of greenish light flashed from the completed talisman, spreading out from the door to encompass the front of the house. But the spell wouldn't be complete until Wyatt finished his half as well.

A shout of surprise came from the back of the house, and without a moment's thought, Chris orbed.

He rematerialized in the kitchen, caught sight of several demons readying energy balls and Wyatt giving _him_ a surprised look – and not even close to taking cover. The demons let loose their barrage, and Wyatt spared them the barest of glances before raising a hand to activate his force field.

Chris took all of this in in a millisecond. Realising what was about to happen, he closed the distance between him and Wyatt, grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him down. The energy balls impacted with the space Wyatt's head had occupied a moment ago, raining sparks on the two of them. Chris lightly smacked his brother upside the head and scolded "No force field, remember?"

Wyatt just blinked, staring at Chris, seemingly oblivious to the demons that were coming round for a second attack. But Chris was all too aware – there were five of them, coming at them from all sides, blocking all escape routes. He adjusted his grip on the atheme, calculating his chances of winning in a brawl, but then re-evaluated his plan. He seized Wyatt's arm and orbed them out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Once they were solid again, Wyatt wrenched himself out of Chris's grip and took a few steps back, a confused and worried expression twisting his features. Chris arched a brow, "What?"

"Chris… you just… you just… _shimmered_," Wyatt stuttered out.

"Huh?" Chris asked, clueless. It was not a normal tone for him, what with him being the brainiac and all. He hadn't just shimmered, he'd orbed, like he always did. It was then that it finally hit him. Their powers were gone, he _couldn't_ orb… so how had he…? His gaze dropped to the atheme in his hand as realization dawned. "Oh."

"'Oh'? _'Oh'?_" Wyatt repeated, slightly exasperated. "That was real eloquent. Care to fill me in on whatever it is that you just figured out?"

A crash came from the hallway; the demons' search for the Halliwell brothers was growing closer. Chris smirked, created an energy ball of his own in his free hand, and then shimmered out. Wyatt glared at the spot where the brunette had just stood, wondering what the hell was going on, and why – _why_ was it always Chris?

Less than a minute passed before all sounds of a struggle stopped, and a green glow enveloped the house before flickering out of existence. Chris then appeared at the doorway, arms crossed and completely nonchalant. "You coming?"

"What the hell is going on?" Wyatt asked, for seemingly the twentieth time that day, as he followed Chris up the stairs towards the attic. "Okay, I get that our powers have been stolen – but how did you end up with demon powers?"

Chris shrugged, "It's actually unrelated. Just a really well-timed coincidence that's going to work in our favour."

"You know what, that doesn't explain _anything_."

They reached the attic, surprised to find the remains of a ritual scattered across the floor. Wyatt ignored it, figuring it was just one of Melinda's many projects that hadn't panned out, but Chris stopped and studied it for a moment. It had to have been a powerful spell, most magic the family cast didn't require all the set up because they were just innately powerful enough to do it on their own. So what was it?

As Wyatt checked on the Book and then heaved it into his arms, Chris reconstructed the wreckage in his mind's eye. Five candles, a salt line pentagram, an altar… though now something was missing.

"You alright?" Wyatt interrupted his thoughts. He was already heading out the door and had paused when he realised Chris wasn't following. The younger witch took one last look at the remnants, a suspicion beginning to form, and then nodded distractedly. "Good, let's get back before Dad decides to send in the Calvary."

* * *

**Magic School**

Melinda sat at the table where Wyatt had been doing his research less than an hour ago, and stared into space. She couldn't quite fathom out how she felt – guilty? She was the one responsible for this mess after all, and she hadn't so far felt all that inclined to admit it. How would she explain it? She was known for being proud, if a not a little obsessive, of her Wiccan heritage – how would she explain why she had just thrown it all away?

Her eyes strayed to some of the books that had been left open, the gleaming eyes of dangerous demons seeming to study her from their illustrated forms. The thought of her family having to battle those things, the strong chance of them losing, and she realised that just as heavy as the weight of her guilt was, the lightness of her relief fought to counterbalance it.

So what did she want? To help her family regain their magic; to alleviate the guilt? Or to keep things as they were, knowing that the eternal battle of Good vs. Evil was no longer their fight?

But how would she go about achieving either option, even if she had the strength to choose?

And why, even though she asked herself so many questions, could she not find a single answer?

She jumped slightly as there came a flash from the other side of the room. Her half-cupid cousins had returned with Aunt Phoebe and her mother, but Melinda couldn't bring herself to get up and join in with the inevitable barrage of questions and vague explanations. It was her fault – could she really get up and lie to her mother's face? Did she even want to? And when, just _when_ would she finally be able to think straight?

Five minutes after the arrival of two-thirds of the Charmed Ones, the heated temper of Piper Halliwell was beginning to calm down. She had learned of Leo allowing their two eldest children to go back to the Manor to face demons while powerless, and had been threatening to cut off appendages if they did not return ever since. The boys in question then showed up, Wyatt holding the Book of Shadows rather triumphantly.

_Stupid Book_ Melinda cursed as she glared at it.

"Thank god!" Piper breathed as she approached them. She passed the Book to Phoebe and then grabbed them both in a hug. They practically had to fold in half to allow her to reach them, but no one seemed to mind. "Now, just what do you think you were doing?"

Wyatt looked a little sheepish, clearly fearing the wrath of his mother, while Chris didn't look in the slightest bit phased. "We figured that we'd need the Book, so we went and got it."

Piper raised her eyebrows at her youngest son, surprised by his tone, but before she could scold him, Paige interrupted. "So what do we do now?"

"We need to figure out who it is that stole our powers," Wyatt replied, reclaiming the Book and placing it on the table next to the one where Melinda was sulking. "Spells and potions still work even if our powers don't, so we should still be able to vanquish it."

"Yeah, but how do we go about finding out _which _demon took them?" P.J asked incredulously. "It's not like we can go and shake down random demons – we're not exactly the same threat we were this morning."

Phoebe furrowed her brow and then turned to study her daughter. "Wait, you shake down demons? Why? They shouldn't be a threat anymore, not after…"

"Things changed, Mom," P.J interjected, a little shortly. "That whole era of peace has been over for a while now."

"What?" Both Phoebe and Paige demanded at the same time. They really had been oblivious to the recent increase in demon activity, but then again, it was mainly Wyatt and Chris who took care of things with the occasional help of the others. The two sisters looked to Piper who was looking a little guilty – she was at least slightly aware after the time travel incident. "You knew?"

"There have been some demon attacks at the manor…" Piper began to explain, only to be cut off again by her sisters.

"What? Why didn't you tell us?"

"Erm… this is kind of beside the point…" Wyatt tried to stop the escalating argument, but was quickly shut down by the matching glares he received from his Aunts.

"All this time our kids could have been in danger; and you didn't think that we should know about this?" Phoebe almost yelled.

P.J rolled her eyes "Mom, we can handle ourselves…"

"That's not the point!"

"My kids can't!" Paige said at the same time as Phoebe's shout. Still sitting at her table, Melinda's hands balled into fists. This is what magic did to their family, it created white lies and secrets; but when any situation could be life or death, those innocent tales could be so very, very dangerous. "Their powers are bound! If a demon were to attack…"

"And whose fault is that?" it was Parker this time who interrupted. She was closest to the twins in age and was all too aware of their distaste for the powerlessness. "They don't want their powers bound! To be so entirely useless and reliant on us – but you won't listen to them!"

Paige shook her head in denial "No! It was to protect them! To keep them safe – so they could have normal lives!"

"They don't _want_ normal lives!" Parker retorted, ignoring the tug on her sleeve her baby sister Peyton was giving her. "We are a family of witches! Do you have any idea what it is like to be able to see everyone else use magic while being stuck as a mortal? Do you?"

Leo was next to try and derail the argument "I think that this is an issue for another time…"

"No, Leo, this is the perfect time," Paige stated, her voice becoming deceptively calm. She took a step towards her niece, but Parker didn't even flinch. "Just what makes you think you know what's best for my children?"

"I know them better than _you_."

"ENOUGH!" Piper and Melinda yelled at the same time. They had the same twin expressions of anger on their faces and Leo was struck, not for the first time, by their uncanny similarity. Before Piper, as matriarch of the family, could give the defusing dressing down that they so desperately needed however, Melinda beat her to the punch.

"What the hell are you arguing for?!" Melinda snapped. She was on her feet, her chair having been knocked over by the sudden action. "Don't you get it? It doesn't matter anymore! We're _all_ powerless! We're _all _normal! Why can't you just accept this and move on!"

Silence followed her outburst.

Panting slightly, her fists curled so tightly she could feel the pinch of her nails in her palms, Melinda realised what she had just done. Her family stared at her, speechless; wondering where in the hell that bundle of pent up anger had come from. The only one who didn't look surprised, was Chris. And that just made her even angrier. Here she was, a desperate wreck, all because of him. And he just stood there, all innocence.

She ran away. Followed by the stun stares, she stormed out of the library and deeper into the labyrinth of Magic School. Why should she care? She had just given them all what they had all always claimed to want – a _normal_ life – and yet they had thrown it back in her face. She had just saved her brother's life, but was he grateful? Why in the hell did she bother?

She found a door somewhere in the middle of the endless corridor and slammed it shut behind her. It was dark, and she had no idea where she was, but she didn't care. She paced the length and breadth of the small space, ranting to herself, until finally the anger began to fizzle into despair. With a small sob she fell against the wall and slid down until she was curled in a ball on the floor.

Three months, three months she had been trying to solve the problem all on her own. It had driven her crazy, the secret, the hopelessness. She had finally found a solution, she had fixed Fate, but still, still nothing was right. How had she screwed up so bad?

It could have been a minute, or it could have been an hour, but after a while, the door to her makeshift haven slowly opened. A hand reached in and turned on the light that she had apparently missed in her temper tantrum, temporarily blinding her. Once her eyes had adjusted, she saw her older brother leaning against the opposite wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

"So, what did you do?"

Melinda blinked, a flare of anger reigniting in her gut. The source of the problem was standing there, completely nonchalant and accusing her. She couldn't believe it – after everything she had gone through? "I saved your life," she didn't even try to keep the venom out of her voice. "Something that you _refused_ to do."

"By making everyone powerless?" Chris asked, incredulously. "I'm sorry Mel, but I really don't think that solved the problem."

"It was better than doing nothing!" she bit back, clambering to her feet while trying and failing to rein her temper in. "It was better than losing you! Don't you get it? I would rather we were normal than have some stupid prophecy come and take you away!"

Chris opened his mouth to say something scathing back, and then seemed to rethink, an odd expression on his face. He finally looked sad, and maybe just a little guilty. "I get it. I've been on your side of the situation enough times. I know what it's like to want to do _anything_ to stop what's coming, but Mel… this isn't the way."

"Why not?" Melinda asked petulantly. "We're normal people now. We're not important. When this gathering storm or whatever comes we won't be a part of it anymore. You won't have to fight… you won't have to…"

Chris shook his head, "You know as well as I do, that if it's meant to happen, it will happen; normal people or not."

Hot tears spilled down Melinda's cheeks. He really had given up, accepted it. Her big brother, who was always so strong and clever and there for her had gone and done the most stupid thing in the world. He knew that he was going to die, but instead of fighting tooth and nail to prevent it, he was simply… _waiting_… for it. "You're an idiot."

Chris looked shocked for a second, but then the corners of his mouth lifted into a wry smile. "Probably," he agreed, and then continued teasingly "But at least I didn't bind our family magic and then broadcast it to the Underworld."

Melinda scowled "That last bit wasn't part of plan."

"So what was the plan?" Chris asked.

Part of Melinda was still being stubborn and didn't want to tell him. She didn't want the problem fixed. She was tired of the Fight and its consequences, and while she loved her magic, she hated the heartbreaks and horrors it also brought with it. Was this really so bad? Okay, the demons were an issue; but surely they'd get bored soon and leave them alone, right? Surely killing a powerless Halliwell would lose its glory, right?

She sighed heavily. Wishful thinking. "I might have made a deal with demon…"

* * *

"Mel did it." Chris declared as he walked back into the library. Maybe it was a little callous and not quite his usual tactful self, but hey, it was the truth. Well, as close to the truth as he was about to tell them anyway.

"What are you talking about?" Wyatt asked, looking up from where he had been studying the Book. Chris rolled his eyes – why was he bothering with the Book? It was useless, he already knew that the demon that did this wasn't in there, so what was the point? And then there was his stupid research on the coming darkness or whatever, what did the oh Twice Blessed one, who had never read a book in his life, think he was doing in a _library?_

But that was slightly beside the point.

"Mel was tricked by a demon into casting a spell that stole all our powers," Chris said slowly, as if talking to a room full of three year olds rather than his family. He ignored the odd mixture of concerned and irritated glances being flashed his way. What did they care? "Predictably, the demon then stole the vessel they were stored in and sent half the Underworld after us."

"But why would she do that?" Piper asked. "She loves her magic, why would she agree with a demon to take it all away?"

Chris shrugged, "Maybe you should ask her when she's finished sulking."

Now everyone was giving him those odd suspicious looks. What was their problem? He wasn't the one who had gone something as stupid as this! Christ! Don't shoot the messenger!

Wyatt was the first to break the tension, recommencing flicking through the Book. "What demon did she say it was?"

"Azazel," Chris replied, and then telekinetically slammed the Book shut, nearly crushing his brother's hands. "She's not in there, so don't even bother looking."

"Chris… did you just…?" Leo began to ask. Chris rolled his eyes and was about to give a sarcastic retort, when the Perfect One interrupted. Chris scowled at him – stupid overachiever. Even powerless he was still being all high and mighty.

"Demonic powers," Wyatt filled in. Seven pairs of eyebrows shot up to their respective hairlines at that statement. Jesus, it wasn't that surprising! "That's why he's so… weird."

_Weird? Weird! _The Book seemed to sense Chris's anger and shot off the table and onto the floor, its protection charms reacting to the evil powers. Taking a deep, semi-calming breath, Chris decided to explain. He held up the atheme "I got this from a Charge this morning. The demon that used to own it left it behind after he was vanquished. It's designed to store the powers of its victims, and well, I killed a lot of demons with it."

Big whoop. Demon powers. It was better than being as weak and useless as the rest of them.

"That's not good Chris; the influence could easily turn you…" Phoebe, former-Queen of the Underworld, warned. Well, she would know. She'd taken a walk on the wild side more often than should be legal for a supposedly good witch. Maybe he just wasn't as weak-willed as she was – he could handle it.

"Whatever, I don't care," Chris shrugged. "But I'm guessing everyone here wants their powers back, and Azazel has them. I know where she is, so why don't you guys sit around here and, I don't know… argue, or something, while I go get them, okay?"

"No, wait, Chris!" his mother yelled.

But he was already gone.

* * *

**The Underworld**

Demonic lairs were mostly all the same. Cave-like, dark, meagre light flickering from ye-olden-time torches. The only real variation came from the number of trinkets and trophies; the higher the level of the demon, the more heads they displayed on their walls.

But Azazel's lair was different. Sure, it was a cave lit by torches, but there was something a little bit more personal about it. It wasn't an animal's den or a monsters hideout; it was more like a shipwrecked person's attempt to make some inhospitable island homey.

And that just about summed up Azazel. She always came across as being more human than demon. Evil rolled off of her in waves, there was no denying that, but the way her mind worked; calculating, logical, it made her smarter than the rest of the inhabitants of the realm. It made her dangerous.

Not that Chris cared in the slightest. As he shimmered right into the middle of her lair and looked around the space, he wasn't the tiniest bit afraid or wary. Maybe that was a bit brash and arrogant of him, but really, what did he have to fear? She was just a demon. He had been vanquishing her kind for two lifetimes, and now he had more powers than ever. This was going to be a walk in the park.

"I was beginning to wonder when the Halliwells would come," a voice, sleek and cold, echoed around the chamber. "However, I was not expecting just one."

"I think you're overestimating yourself," Chris replied the darkness cockily. "One Halliwell is all it will take to vanquish you."

A chuckle, menacing yet seductive, designed to send chills down the listeners spine, followed his reply. It had no effect on Chris. Really, it didn't. "The darkness that taints you spreads quickly. Who knew it would make you so bold?"

"Show yourself!" Chris snapped, losing patience. Azazel had always loved to play games. He had known her in the bad timeline; she had been one of the first demons to join the Resistance, and had quickly ended up as one of its leaders with her silver tongue.

"As you wish, though I do not believe it will do you much good," the last word emanated from the now visible lips of a beautiful, olive skinned woman. Amber eyes glowed in the darkness as she studied him carefully. "You must be Christopher, correct? I am so glad that I get the chance to thank you."

Chris furrowed his brow. "Thank me?"

"Why of course!" Azazel grinned. A metal lantern containing a single red flame materialised in her hand. Chris could instantly feel the power trapped inside, recognising the magic of his family. "It is because of you that all this was possible! A Halliwell, lost and despairing, wanting so desperately to save her doomed big brother. So easy to persuade, so easy to trick. And all because of you."

His grip tightened around the hilt of the atheme.

"I am surprised that it was you who came to retrieve this," Azazel continued, swinging the lantern carelessly. Chris couldn't help it, his eyes followed the crimson flame hypnotically, some hungry, alien voice in his mind telling him that he needed it. "Shouldn't you be safe now from that horrible fate of yours? You are no longer a warrior for Good, surely you are unworthy to be sacrificed?"

Back and forth. Back and forth.

"Or maybe, just maybe, you know that fate cannot be so easily changed," she began walking, circling him slowly; smiling at how his eyes never left the lantern. "Have you now realised that in order to fight it you need to be stronger… more… _powerful?"_

All the powers of the Twice Blessed, the Charmed Ones and a whole generation of offspring called from the depths of the flame. Maybe, if he had all that power, he would be strong enough to tell the Angels of Destiny where to stuff their Grand Design. Then maybe he wouldn't have to die, he wouldn't have to hurt them. He could take the entire burden – that's what he did after all – but this time… this time he would be strong enough to take it…

"You mortals… you are all so predictable." Azazel muttered, mostly to herself, figuring that she had lost her captive audience. "Even the most selfless find themselves attracted to power like bees to nectar."

He had to have it.

She was still circling, acting like the predator, little knowing that she was truly the prey. With a flick of his wrist he took her feet out from under her, and then he formed an energy ball in his free hand. Before he could throw it, however, Azazel vanished in a blanket of flames, reappearing behind him and wrapping her arm around his throat.

The lantern had been dropped.

It lay on the floor on its side, the red flame dancing merrily despite its position.

Chris flipped Azazel so that she landed sprawled before him. He brought the atheme down like Thor's might hammer, but she rolled just in time to avoid the hit. Instead the blade was buried in a crack in the floor. Abandoning it, Chris created another energy ball, this time scathing her arm as she tried to dodge. Azazel let out the smallest of cries that turned into a growl of rage, and suddenly Chris found himself on the receiving end of a right hook.

He staggered back, blocked the next punch and retaliated with one of his own. With Azazel off balance, he grabbed her telekinetically and sent her soaring into the wall. She connected with sickening crack before thudding onto the rock floor, landing within arm's reach of the lantern.

No! Chris whipped the lantern away from her as she clawed desperately towards it. Even after all her lectures on craving power, she was just as weak. Before he himself could grab the treasure however, Azazel flamed again, this time appearing in front of him, a fireball inches from his face. Pure instinct saved him as he dropped and tackled her to the ground.

He landed awkwardly on his right knee, sending pain shooting through his leg, but he ignored it has he pinned Azazel to the ground, his hands wrapped around her throat. She clawed at his arms, drawing blood, but it did nothing to loosen his grip. He caught sight of the atheme nearby, and with a telekinetic yank pulled it into his waiting grasp.

Without another thought he plunged it into her heart.

Azazel looked stunned for a moment, as if the possibility of him actually vanquishing her had never crossed her mind. But then her face twisted into a demented smile before her whole body disintegrated into a pile of dust.

Instantly, her powers channelled through the atheme and into him. It felt so good. She had been strong, clearly no match for him, but strong nonetheless, and adding that to his already healthy accumulation of power was incredibly satisfying.

But he still needed more.

His eyes flickered to the lantern, its red flame beckoning invitingly. He picked it up, holding the entire force of the Halliwell family in his hands, and blinked.

Maybe it was because the lantern contained nothing but good magic that the haze finally cleared. It was cool, calming and safe, and as he held it, it was as if he could suddenly think straight again. He didn't want it, it wasn't his to take. He couldn't leave the family defenceless while he went on some power kick in a vain attempt to save himself. Just what in the hell had he been thinking?

He glanced at the atheme, and knew what he had to do.

* * *

**Magic School**

Wyatt did not like waiting around, feeling powerless and doing nothing. Especially not when it meant that his little brother, one of the people that he was determined to keep safe, was the one doing the job that was rightfully his. It was one of his shortcomings, as well as one of his greatest strengths, how seriously that he took his destiny as the Twice Blessed. It irritated him just how useless he had become when the powers he had so heavily relied upon were taken away. Was this all he really was? With his magic was gone, was he truly this pathetic?

Impatient and more than a little anxious, Wyatt rocked to his feet and recommenced pacing, much to the annoyance of his cousin P.J who threw him a glare as he passed. No one was comfortable with the situation. The concept of 'sit and wait' was seemingly foreign to the naturally stubborn Halliwells. They had always been so capable, strong - to relinquish control over the outcome, to lay the responsibility entirely on one person - it wasn't the Halliwell way. And now Chris was facing an upper level demon, alone, and they could do nothing but wait.

Time moved painfully slow as Wyatt continued to pace, the soft and constant tapping of his footsteps creating an almost ticking sound, measuring the seconds. It was as he reached the twentieth minute that finally the air rippled as Chris shimmered into the room.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he smirked as he held up the sought after lantern and dropped it onto the table. "But I think you'll find this worth it."

Wyatt breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of their returned family magic, and then gave his younger brother a closer look. He had a few cuts and bruises and he appeared to be favouring his left leg, but beyond that he seemed fine. He shouldn't have been surprised, Chris had survived far worse situations, but even though Wyatt knew this, he always struggled to see beyond the image of his weaker baby brother. "Did Azazel give you any problems?"

Chris shrugged "Nothing I couldn't handle."

"So what do we do now?" P.J asked the million dollar question. "How do we get our powers out of the lantern and back into us?"

"We just need to break the seal and say a spell, and then we're back to being normal... or abnormal really," Piper replied as she opened up the ancient Book to the very first page, a small, nostalgic smile on her face. "This one should do it."

Finally things would be back to the way they were supposed to be, Wyatt thought to himself. He had never thought of himself as power hungry, having already gotten more than most, and particularly now that he knew of his evil alternate self, but the weakness he had felt in the past few hours had made him crave the feeling of strength that magic brought him. He needed it just as much, if not more, than the world needed him. "Let's get this over with then."

"Just a sec, someone needs to stab me first," Chris said nonchalantly, earning himself surprised looks all round. Wyatt studied Chris, noticing tiny nuances that only a brother could. There was something different, even more different than the last time he had seen him. It was almost as if the odd behaviour was an act – but why would… Chris grinned at the expressions uncharacteristically. "To get rid of the demon powers," he explained as he held up the atheme.

"Yes, but I'd rather like to be able to heal you before we do that," Wyatt retorted sarcastically, though he was secretly glad that his brother was volunteering to surrender them. He wasn't sure how well the family would have coped with a second crisis of Chris going all dark side on them.

"But that would take my good magic as well," Chris pointed out, absentmindedly playing with the blade. "We've got to stab me, say the spell real quick, and then heal me - hopefully before I bleed to death."

"But what if the spell doesn't work? We won't know until we try it, and by the time we come up with an alternative..." Melinda argued as she pushed herself onto her feet. She had sullenly returned not long after Chris had left, and had been remaining very quiet. "Maybe there's another way... we could... you could maybe...not...get your magic back..."

Chris gave Melinda a look that Wyatt couldn't translate, and her suggestion died on her lips. There was something going on, some secret between the two of them, but for then he let it go. There were more important things going on, like the potential murder of his little brother. "Is there another way to get rid of the demon powers Dad?"

Leo looked pensive for a moment before passing his wife an apologetic look and shaking his head slightly. "Not that I know of, and I don't think we have enough time to try and find one. He's already beginning to change."

"So, who's gonna stab me?" Chris asked, offering the knife. He was greeted with silence as no one seemed overly keen to possibly kill him. "Come on, someone's got to do it, or I'm going to turn evil and you'll have to vanquish me instead."

That was true enough. The influence of the demonic powers had been clear early on, and even though Wyatt never would have imagined his selfless little brother as susceptible, they couldn't underestimate the pull of evil. Wyatt would do anything to protect his family from the darkness that had consumed him in another life – including stabbing them.

Wyatt sighed reluctantly. "Fine, I'll do it."

"Good," Chris smiled as he handed over the atheme. Piper rose from her seat and came to hover nearby, worry etched on her face. "Don't worry bro, this won't be the first time you stabbed me... it will be the fourth."

Eyes widened at the abruptness of that statement, and Wyatt felt a painful stab of guilt from the words. "Surprisingly, that doesn't make me feel better," he tried to deflect sarcastically, though he suspected the hurt shined clearly in his eyes. Chris just shrugged, almost as if to goad him. "Are we ready to say the spell?"

"Yeah, the seal is broken and we're ready," Phoebe replied. The witches of the family were gathered within eye shot of the Book, all of them looking anxious. This could so easily go horribly wrong.

It was all down to Wyatt to make sure that he didn't accidentally kill his brother. No pressure.

In the moment before the deed, the odd cockiness that had plagued Chris's personality since he had gained the demonic powers vanished. The pair of them met the others eyes for a moment, before Chris looked away. And then Wyatt stabbed him.

A small gasp was the only expression of pain Chris gave as the blade was wedged between his ribs. Wyatt gripped his arm to keep him upright as he felt the atheme work in his hand. From simply holding the hilt he could feel the burning temptation of evil, and while a part of him whispered that the power should be his, the slightly more sane part of his mind wondered how Chris could have resisted. After seconds that felt like hours the blade had finished its job, and Wyatt pulled it out. "Say the spell!"

Without hesitation the coven of Halliwells began chanting as Chris dropped to his knees. Wyatt followed, guiding his fall and trying to alleviate some of the pain through sheer will. His grip on Chris's arm tightened. Piper was immediately beside them, her face pale and taut with panic.

By the time the spell was through, Chris had sunk onto his side, his eyes closing and his breathing growing erratic. For a moment dread filled Wyatt as he became certain the spell had failed. But then an ominous wind picked up as the air crackled with magic.

Orbs of white light escaped the confines of the lantern, its eerie red flame shrinking as power left it.

The flood of power as it once again coursed through Wyatt's veins felt unbelievably good, knowing that he was once again the strongest force of good alive reassuring him. He could do anything again. Now all he needed to do was save his brother.

He held his hands over the wound he had inflicted, the golden glow immediately obeying him. Slowly, the wound began to close and Chris's eyes flickered open. "That was close."

"Don't _ever_ make me do that again," Wyatt said forcefully as he helped Chris to sit up. Piper immediately wrapped them both in a hug, simultaneously scolding and praising them.

Things were back to normal.

* * *

**The Matthews-Mitchell Residence**

"You're father and I have been discussing some things…"

Paige looked to Henry nervously and then turned back to her children. This was a discussion she didn't think she would be having for years yet. Her baby girls were still just that, _babies_. This may be what they wanted, but were they really ready?

Twin gazes settled on her expectantly.

"Things have changed a lot recently, and as a former-Charmed One, I still can't believe I didn't notice," Paige sighed. Beside her, Henry shifted awkwardly. He was an amazing father and husband, but when it came to the magical side of things, he was completely out of his depth. "Things are getting dangerous again. Peace time is over."

"Does that mean…" Tam began, then seemed to hesitate, as if suggesting the idea would somehow stop her mother was saying it. Paige noticed that the twins were holding hands, their bond clear. She knew that no matter what happened, they would never be alone, they would always have each other. It was that bond, the bond between sisters, that she felt had always kept the Charmed Ones strong.

Maybe it was _her_ that wasn't ready.

"If you want, we will unbind your powers…"

"YES!" Both Tam and Kat leapt to their feet, hugging and squealing in delight. Henry Jr. remained seated, looking a little left out and jealous, but still happy to his sisters win the battle they had been fighting for years.

"However…" Paige interrupted, placing her hands on her hips and projecting her best over-protective mother aura. "You both have to promise me that you will always follow the rules, _never_ use magic for personal gain, and more than anything, that you will always be careful and stay safe."

The two girls hugged their mother tightly, feeling closer to her now than they ever had. No one seemed to have realised just how bigger rift the disagreement was causing, but now things seemed to finally be coming together.

"We promise Mom."

* * *

**The Cooper-Halliwell Residence**

Peyton Halliwell sat cross-legged on her bed, trying in vain to understand her physics assignment while her thoughts kept running circles in her head. Even as she stared at Newton's Law of Motion, all she could see in her mind's eye was darkness.

It had haunted her dreams for the last few weeks, but unlike every other psychic in the world, sometimes she would see past it. It was only flashes, snapshot images that she couldn't hope to understand, but the misery, hopelessness and pain that accompanied them were as clear as day.

Something truly terrible was coming, and somehow her family were going to wind up right in the middle of it.

There came a knock at her door, impatient, as if she had missed it the first time. "Yeah?"

The door opened a crack, revealing her eldest sister P.J. it had been hours since they had gotten their magic back and the last of the demon threat had been taken care of, but for some reason, P.J was taking her sweet time to go back to her dorm. "Hey."

"What's the matter?" Peyton asked, frowning at the odd nervousness of her sister. They weren't usually like this; sure the three of them had their arguments – what sisters didn't? – but they were on good terms more often than not.

P.J smirked. "I actually came here to ask you that."

"Huh?" Peyton gave up trying to understand Newton and shut the textbook.

"I'm an empath, Peyton, I know something's wrong," the elder sister closed the door behind her, and then came and perched on the bed. Peyton didn't know whether to be annoyed by the breach of privacy (though really she was used to it) or to be grateful that someone had noticed. "Can you tell me what's got you so scared?"

Peyton looked away for a moment, chewing her lip. She then nodded to herself "You know that coming darkness that the Elders are all concerned about? Well, I've seen it. And they have every right to be concerned."

"What do you mean you've seen it? Did you have a premonition, like this morning when you knew the demons were coming?" P.J asked. She took her sister's hand reassuringly.

"They're not really premonitions, not like what Mom has," Peyton tried to explain. "It's more like I see flashes of things, all the time, like I look at something and I see what it will look like, rather than what it does," she shook her head. "It's hard to describe. But it happens more when I'm asleep. I almost see the entirety of the next day, then forget it, and then all day I'm followed by this eerie sense of déjà vu."

P.J frowned sympathetically, "That doesn't sound like fun."

"It's not."

"So what did you see about the darkness?"

Peyton closed her eyes, squeezing them shut as if it would stop her seeing the images that had plagued her nights. P.J must have picked up on her distress, because she was instantly wrapping her up in her arms like she did when they were younger and Peyton had had a nightmare. After a short while, Peyton managed to find her voice, though it came out as barely more than a whisper

"I saw the world die."

* * *

**The Golden Gate Bridge**

The wind was sharp as it whistled between the crimson support beams of the bridge, cold enough in the autumnal weather to set Chris's teeth chattering. Not that he noticed. He was too deep in his own thoughts to pay his discomfort any mind.

How could he even have considered it? Taking power all to himself and leaving his family to fend for themselves? He had always done everything for them, would willingly lay down his life without a second thought for them, and yet a taste of power had so very nearly tempted him to throw them to the wolves. Was that really all it took to break his hard set morals? Was it all he needed to break that promise that he had made himself a lifetime ago?

Hadn't that been what had turned his brother into a monster?

Chris gave his head a sharp shake to pull himself out of his thoughts, suddenly becoming aware of the cold. He moved his fingers experimentally to find them red raw and frozen – just how long had he been up here?

"You'll catch a cold, or worse, if you keep coming up here to brood," a familiar voice called above the wind. Chris turned and gave his brother a mildly irritated look by way of greeting, then resumed staring at the traffic below. "So what's got you so deep in thought?"

"Nothing," Chris instantly lied, though he knew his brother could see through it.

"So… it's got nothing to do with that little power trip you had to give up earlier?" Wyatt asked, the smirk in his voice telling Chris that he knew he had hit the nail on the head. He then heard a sigh, and the ever-so-slightly taller blonde came and sat next to him. "I felt it too, you know, the pull? I only held that atheme for a moment, but that's all it took to get the craving going. You were using it for a lot longer than that."

"I… I almost…" Chris turned away. "I think I finally understand you. The other you. For years it had always bugged me how you could turn against our family for something as trivial as power, but today… today I found myself doing the same."

He could feel Wyatt's gaze on him, but he refused to meet it. He didn't want to see the disappointment he was sure he would see there. "I could feel it, all the magic that was trapped in the lantern, and I wanted it. I've always been a planner, I was thinking ten steps ahead – first the Underworld, then hey, why not the actual world?

"It was arrogant of me really," Chris continued. Now he had started for some strange reason he couldn't stop the words, nor did he want to. "I thought I was above it all. After seeing what power could do, I thought it wouldn't tempt me. And yet I nearly sacrificed my family just to get it. How pathetic is that?"

Wyatt shook his head. "No one's immune. And you're obviously not pathetic, Chris. You were that close, and yet you gave it all up? I'm not sure I would have been strong enough to do that. Hell, there's a whole timeline that proves I'm not."

"It wasn't you."

"It could have been," Wyatt sighed again. The pair of them had said that so many times over the past nine months it was becoming their mantra. An irritating jingle sounded in his head. "The Elders are calling. They probably want an update on my master plan to save the world or something. You should get home before you catch pneumonia."

Chris nodded as his brother disappeared in a column of orbs, and then turned his attention to his next problem. Melinda.

He hadn't realised just how far she would go, though really, he should have. If the situation was reversed he probably would have done something insanely suicidal by now – there was no way he could ever let his little sister do that.

If she couldn't let it go, he would make it so that she never knew.

* * *

**The Halliwell Manor**

Melinda wasn't asleep. There was absolutely no way that was ever going to happen. Her thoughts were too erratic, her telepathy was slipping from her control, and her brother was still likely to die in fifty-seven days. No. She definitely was not asleep.

But she was tired, exhausted to the point she felt that she would never have the strength to move again. When she had accidentally found out the secret that was driving her crazy, she had had no idea of the weight it would be on her. Chris wasn't helping, but then again she should have realised her selfless big brother would be all too willing to sacrifice himself for the Greater Good.

She growled to herself and slovenly rolled over, her eyes half closed and droopy. Her room was in almost complete darkness, only the vague amber glow of the streetlight outside breaking through her curtains. But then suddenly the room was illuminated in blue. She squeezed her eyes shut against the onslaught, knowing instinctively that someone had just orbed into her bedroom, and that she was about to kill them.

"Chris!" she hissed, even before she had opened her eyes. There weren't all that many people who could keep their thoughts private from a telepath. "You better have a damn good reason for…"

"I'm really sorry about this," he whispered, silencing her with shock. "But it's for your own good."

And then everything went blank.

When she opened her eyes again, she found herself alone – though then again, why wouldn't she be? This was _her_ room and it was ungodly o'clock in the morning. She briefly wondered what had woken her up, and then turned on her side, the events of the day making her stomach twist with guilt.

She couldn't believe that she had been tricked by a demon so easily! She loved her magic, why would she have just given it up like that? What argument could the demon possibly have made to persuade her to do something so very unlike her? Not that it mattered anymore. Chris had managed to get their magic back and no one was blaming her, so maybe she should just forget about it.

Yeah… she should forget about it.

Within seconds she was soundly asleep, the weight of a secret she no longer knew completely lifted. She didn't hear the near-silent whisper that carried across the darkness.

"_I'm so sorry."_

* * *

**YES! I HAVE FINALLY FINISHED THIS CHAPTER! It has only taken me FOUR months! WOOHOO!**

**Ahem.**

**I mean, thank you for reading, and if you feel so inclined, could you maybe, pretty, pretty please leave me a comment? It could potentially halve the waiting time for the next chapter :P**


	8. Footprints in the Sand

**Charmed -:- Borrowed Time**

**Episode Summary:**

In the middle of a battle Wyatt's vast powers suddenly disappear; so he and Chris cast a spell to take them back to when they were lost. Through the trickiness of time travel their return is not instantaneous; leaving Melinda and P.J. to take novice witches Tamara and Kat under their wing to finish the vanquish…

**Author's Note(s):**

EEEEK! Thank you so much for the reviews! You are all highly, highly awesome and I'm really glad you are all enjoying this fic :D

To **locksleylass**, even more massive apologies for the mix up, and I totally agree with you. Thanks for the compliment – its good to know that I got Melinda right! To **weiliya, CrystalZap**, **Aynessa **and **SilveSun**, I'm glad you're enjoying this fic and thanks for taking the time to leave a comment, much appreciated :P To **MyWhitelighter, **it's awesome that even half asleep my story managed to catch your attention lol. Your review made me feel super-smart, so my ego thanks you kindly. And finally to **Guest**, your welcome, I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much! Thank you!

As you may have guessed from the episode summary, this chap has time travel notes, as well as setting notes. Lots of them. You ready? This is the first chapter that spans several months rather than just a day or two. We begin one week after the last chapter (2 and a half months to D-Day) and then we skip ahead a couple of times until we get to the time of the main plot, a.k.a, the present. In the present it is November 2027 (two weeks to D-Day), the boys then end up back in the past - _Forever Charmed_ – and then finally they come home… kinda…

But anyway, time to get to the fun part – Enjoy!

* * *

**Eight -:- Footprints in the Sand**

**San Francisco Bay Area Hospice – 2****nd**** September 2027**

Every effort had been made to make the small room as comfortable and homey as possible. The curtains were open allowing the soft morning sun to warm the place, and if one were so inclined to look out of the window, they would be greeted by a picture-perfect view of the Bay. An armoire and small desk were tucked into one corner, between a wooden door that led to the en-suite facilities. There were two armchairs on either side of a proper bed that was covered with a woollen blanket. Even the life support machines seemed quieter and less obtrusive than one would expect, the many tubes and cables discreetly tucked around the frail body.

But even with all the creature comforts, nothing could mask the heavy weight of melancholy in the air. The queer scent that permeated hospitals and care homes alike; clinical and clean, but still failing to overpower the smell of sickness and death.

By now Chris had grown used to the smell. He no longer heard the faint beeps of the heart monitor or the _hiss, click_ of the ventilator. As he sat hunched over in one of the armchairs, all he could see was the sleeping face of the man who had meant everything to him in both lifetimes.

_You're awesome, Grandpa._

Victor Bennet had fallen ill several months ago, his condition worsening as Death inevitably drew near. It was another one of those things that Chris had failed to change, but for this one, he didn't blame himself. Originally, the lung cancer had taken Victor when Chris was just eighteen, but a simple comment about cigars had given them almost six more years. And this time, his last few months weren't spent suffering in a cold safe house while the world fell apart around them. That was something to be grateful for.

Chris blinked back tears as he buried his face in his hands. No matter how many times he tried to tell himself that it was better this time around, it still hurt like a fresh wound to see his hero like this. It was yet another thing that he was powerless to change. Another cruel fate he was destined to suffer.

He sighed heavily and then pushed himself back upright so that he could see out of the window. A week ago he had erased his sister's memory of his rapidly approaching deadline. He had never felt so alone.

When he had been in the past, sure, he had felt alienated and lonely, but he had had a purpose. He had had a target that he could work towards, pushing all of his depressing emotions out of the way until later. Even during his last brush with non-existence he had been able to go to his aunts (as a last resort) but now he didn't even have that. He _couldn't_ tell anyone; Melinda's deal with a demon was proof enough of that. He truly was alone.

But that was why he was there. He could feel himself falling apart, and he didn't have the strength to keep himself together. He needed to share the burden; he needed to tell _someone_. Even if that someone couldn't exactly hear him.

"Hey Grandpa," Chris muttered hoarsely, though his voice sounded incredibly loud after the silence. Victor didn't react. "Sorry it's been a while; things have been a little hectic recently."

_Hiss, click._

"The demon attacks have been getting worse," Chris continued quietly. He didn't quite know why he was making one-sided small talk, but it just felt necessary. "It's nothing we can't handle, but it'd be easier if Wy wasn't so distracted by his research. I don't think he even knows what he's doing, but it's his thing so I just leave him to it. There's no point though, whatever's coming, it's something new – it's not gonna be in some book, no matter how many he reads."

Chris paused, listening to the constant beep of the heart monitor. "Mel's starting college next week. She wasn't going to because… because of… me…" he stopped again, and drew in a deep breath. "Grandpa… I… I'm going to…"

"Hi son."

Chris whipped round and jumped to his feet, surprised to find that he was no longer alone. He was even more surprised by who the new arrival was, even though he shouldn't have been really. "Clarence?"

The dark-skinned janitor smiled sadly. Chris briefly wondered if it was a weird thing to be on a first-name basis with an Angel of Death, but quickly pushed that thought aside. He glanced from Clarence to his Grandpa and back, noticing for the first time the slowing pace of the beeping. "Is it time?"

"I'm afraid so," Clarence nodded. "But I am a little early – I wanted to talk to you first."

Chris rolled his eyes. "If you want to tell me that my death is inevitable and I can't fight it, don't bother. I already know."

"Then why are you wasting your time?" Clarence asked pointedly, making the younger man double take. "You and I both know how little you have left. Every moment now is precious; don't spend it dwelling on the bad. You're parents are together, happy and alive; your cousin Prue is at college when before she didn't even make it to high school. You have a sister who looks up to you and a brother who is saving the world, not destroying it. Even your fiancé is back in your life. This is everything you fought for, right here, right now. And you're missing it."

"What's the point!?" Chris shouted in frustration, but then realised where they were and reined his temper in. "I'm still going to lose them all again."

Clarence sighed. "Do you know how many people I lead to the Light every day? How many of them beg me for just _one more day_ with their loved ones?" Chris looked away guiltily, his eyes straying to his Grandpa's pale face. "Yes, it is cruel and unfair what has happened to you, son. But remember, you are living on borrowed time. Please, don't waste it."

Silence stretched between the Angel and the Witchlighter, filled only by the sparse beeps. And then, with absolute finality, a constant low tone sounded.

Victor Bennet's ghost materialised next to Clarence. He looked mildly surprised to find himself translucent, but after a moment it became clear that he understood, and he was ready. He smiled warmly at Chris, not even in the slightest bit afraid, and then he disappeared. Clarence hovered a moment longer, a promise hanging in the air.

"_I'll see you soon."_

* * *

**Golden Gate Cemetery – One Week Later**

The funeral of Victor Bennet achieved quite a turn-out. Phoebe Halliwell could imagine her father taking a look at all the people gathered and smirking quite smugly, before grinning at his family. The thought made her smile slightly, even as tears spilled freely down her cheeks.

It wasn't raining. It wasn't overcast and dark. There was not a single crow or raven to be seen. No, it was a sunny morning, with a clear blue sky and a slight warm breeze, as if some higher power was trying to make what had happened a little less horrible. Surrounding the gathering was row upon row of gravestones in varying degrees of care, and in the middle was a freshly dug, 6ft deep hole. Suspended above it was the coffin, its polished finish glinting in the sun.

Inside was her father.

She found it hard to believe that she had once been estranged from the man. She and her older sisters had been raised by their grandmother because of their parent's divorce. But none of that mattered anymore; it hadn't for such a long time. She loved him dearly, all past indiscretions forgiven and forgotten.

Phoebe leaned back against her husband who wrapped his arms around her in comfort. She had her hands on her youngest daughter's shoulders, feeling them shake as Peyton cried quietly. Next to them was Parker and P.J, the pair of them holding hands; something they hadn't done since they were children. Victor had been an awesome Grandpa, as all the children used to call him, and even though they had known this was coming, it still hurt.

It had been terrible to watch him deteriorate over the past year, knowing that the end was inevitable but fighting it tooth and nail all the same. Phoebe had visited him as often as she was able, praying that he would get better but finding that with each visit he was growing weaker and weaker. She should have been prepared for the phone call, but when Piper had told her, Phoebe had dropped to her knees in shock.

But she didn't want to remember that. She didn't want to think of her father as pale and utterly dependant. No, she would remember the strong man who had stood up to demons even though he knew he didn't stand a chance. The man that had become the designated babysitter of her favourite nephews while she and her sisters had still been the Charmed Ones.

She would remember him as the man who took one look at his funeral turn-out and grinned.

* * *

**Magic School Library – 14****th**** October 2027**

Wyatt let his head drop on the table with a thud.

It didn't solve his problem, but for some strange reason, it did make him feel a little better. From the desk nearby his younger sister gave him a sympathetic look. Both of them had been buried in dusty tomes for the last month, Wyatt even longer than that, though Melinda was here for college research rather than the doomsday prep he was trudging through.

After a moment of breathing exercises to calm his frustration, Wyatt raised his forehead off of the desk and attempted to resume reading. After hours of doing nothing but with only a few breaks, he found the task nigh on impossible. The miniscule print seemed hell-bent on thwarting him and merrily danced across the pages, becoming nonsensical to the witch's tired brain. Wyatt slammed the book closed. "I am not made for this!"

Melinda looked up from her textbook, her pen hovering in the air over a scrap of paper. "Wy…"

"No. I've been researching for three months straight and I haven't found a _single_ useful thing!" he snapped, his patience long ago lost in the sea of literature surrounding him. "How the hell am I supposed to find the answers in these stupid books anyway? The print is too small, the authors are too cryptic and they all insist on using fifty words to say something they could have said in ten! I'm tired, I've got a headache and I can't remember the last time I ate. The next time its Armageddon someone else can fix it!"

He took a deep breath, realising that his fists were clenched painfully tight and he had accidentally destroyed a reading lamp. He heard the librarian tut, but by now she was used to his outbursts and the broken furniture that followed. Melinda watched him with a mix of surprise and empathy, her hand still frozen mid-sentence.

Compared to the end of the world, Wyatt knew that his complaints were insignificant, but that didn't mean he couldn't get irritated. He had always been proud of his duty, maybe even a little bit smug that he was the go-to guy for all things magical, but right now he hated his destiny. The Elders had been pressuring him for months, reiterating again and again about the _looming darkness_ and _inevitable doom_, expecting him to be the one to figure it all out and stop it. But he was just one guy.

Sure, he was a powerful witch; give him a demon and he'd send its ass packing back to purgatory, no sweat. But the vagueness of the apocalypse prediction meant that he had no target. No demon to hunt or warlock to vanquish. No one knew for sure what was coming – how can you stop what you don't know? All they could do was sit and wait. Wyatt didn't do sitting and waiting.

"Maybe you should ask Chris?" Melinda suggested. It was a good suggestion, everyone knew that Chris was better at the research side of magic; the guy was practically a walking encyclopaedia. Originally, Wyatt hadn't wanted to ask for his brother's help knowing that Chris had already shouldered the fate of the world before, but after a month of getting nowhere he had finally given in. But it hadn't changed a thing.

Wyatt sighed heavily. "I already did. He said he was busy."

Melinda raised her eyebrows, but then gave a sigh to match his. Judging by the look on her face Wyatt figured that she had been blown off by Chris too. It had started not long after their Grandpa's death. Chris had withdrawn almost completely – though not enough to raise suspicion with their parents. He still showed up for family dinners and answered whenever they called, but short of summoning him he was nigh on impossible to find at any other time. He was blocking both Wyatt and Melinda; which was worrying to say the least, but in the constant bad mood Wyatt was in recently his worry translated to annoyance.

"You too, huh?" Wyatt asked, seeing Melinda's expression.

"I think he's avoiding me," she frowned. At her brother's inquiring brow, she shrugged. "I don't know why, it's just a feeling I get." She shifted uncomfortably, opened her mouth as if to continue, but then changed her mind, pretending to return her attention to her book.

"What is it?"

Melinda avoided his gaze a moment longer, but then chewed her bottom lip and looked up. "I didn't want to worry you… what with…" she gestured at the Mount Etna of books. Wyatt waved it off and gestured for her to bother him regardless. "I've been having these… blackouts, I guess. Not recently, they stopped a while ago, but since January I've got these blank spots in my memory and I don't know why."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Wyatt asked, somewhere between concerned and upset. Melinda once again pointed at the books, and his frustration doubled. Not only was this damn research getting him nowhere, but it was stopping his family from confiding in him like they used to. He knew that they were completely unprepared, but part of him couldn't help but wish that the End of the World would just hurry up and be over with already. "When did they stop exactly?"

Melinda thought about it for a moment. "I guess when the demon, Azazel, stole all our powers. You don't think she was the one that did this do you?"

"Maybe," Wyatt replied, disconcerted. "During those blackouts she could have been gradually trying to convince you to help her, then making you forget so that you wouldn't suspect. You were acting strange for a while – I should have noticed and done something."

"It's not your fault Wy," Melinda tried to console him, but he just rolled his eyes. He had heard that way too many times over the past year. It wasn't his fault that Barbas had gotten to him, catching Chris in the middle. It wasn't his fault that his alternate-self had been an evil murderer. It wasn't his fault that the end of the world was coming and he was completely useless.

Wyatt gave his head a short, sharp shake to try and stop the downward spiral his thoughts were dragging him towards. He had to get a grip. Literally, the whole world was counting on him. He couldn't throw a temper tantrum every time things didn't go his way. "If you say so," he responded noncommittally. He tried once again to focus on a book, but the page was just a blur of random letters.

"I've got to go," Melinda announced as she packed up her stuff. She smiled apologetically, knowing her timing was off. "I've got a lecture on the Greek Gods and I'll be shot if I miss another one."

"Its fine," Wyatt forced a smile. She was a History Major at Berkley, and after a rough start she was just beginning to balance out her studies and Wiccan duties. He couldn't make her keep him company just because he was feeling miserable. He gave her a small wave as she pulled out a transportation potion and disappeared. He was left, once again, alone with his arch enemies: books.

After ten minutes or so of continuing to get absolutely nowhere, Wyatt came to the conclusion that he needed a break. An extended one. Like, at least a day. He needed to get out of the dark, stuffy library and go somewhere, _anywhere_, else. Maybe it was a little selfish, but he was going stir crazy. If he didn't get out of there now he'd be a nervous wreck by the time the Darkness came, and he wouldn't be of any help to anybody.

At least, that's what he told himself as he began planning a mini vacation in Ibiza.

Just as he was about to leave however, he caught sight of a familiar blue light from the depths of the stacks. Wyatt abandoned the books he was tidying to appease the librarian, and headed into the maze of floor to ceiling bookshelves. He found his brother flicking through a book in the Demonology section. It had been mostly cleared out by Wyatt, but there were still a few books that he had yet to get to.

Chris looked up as Wyatt came to a stop half way down the aisle. He looked surprised, and maybe just a little irritated that his big brother had found him, but that wasn't what caught Wyatt's attention. Chris was dressed in dark clothes that were covered in dirt and had more than a few holes in them, revealing several half-healed cuts. There was a dark bruise on his cheek and blood dribbled from a graze above his eyebrow. He looked like hell.

"Have you been in the Underworld?" Wyatt demanded, unable to keep the accusation out of his voice. Chris didn't answer, but schooled his expression into one of boredom rather than guilt. "Have you been down there, hunting, _alone?_"

Chris rolled his eyes. "I have Charges, Wyatt. Sometimes they need help. The Elders are too busy chasing their own tails over Doomsday, so I have to get information from other sources."

Wyatt's big brother instincts were on overdrive. Here was his little brother, clearly hurt and tired, putting himself in danger while he was completely clueless about it. He wanted to be protective and heal Chris's injuries, but in his mood everything was just coming out as irritation. He was sounding like their mother. "You know how dangerous it is down there! The demons are getting stronger – what if you come across something you can't handle, huh?"

"Wy, relax, I've been doing this a lot longer than you," Chris pointed out nonchalantly. In a way, that was true. He had been demon hunting for two lifetimes, but that didn't mean he knew everything. Before Wyatt could say this however, Chris sighed heavily. "I know what I'm doing. And I'm not…" he hesitated slightly. "I'm not alone."

"What hell is that supposed to mean?" Wyatt asked incredulously. He knew Chris's Charges were essentially over-protected novices; there was no way he would take them down to the Underworld with him, which only left "Are you taking the cousins with you?"

"What? No!" Chris instantly denied. "The aunts would kill me."

"Then who?!"

Chris put the demonology book back on the shelf. "It doesn't matter. Just go back to your research – I can look after myself."

Wyatt was about to say that he highly doubted that, seeing how thin his brother had gotten, as well as the fact that he was pretty beat up, but Chris just orbed out before he got the chance. Wyatt stood there in shock for a moment, not realising that he hadn't had the chance to heal his brother until he was gone. "Damnnit."

Great. The first time he had seen his brother in a week and all he had done was yell at him. That was just great. Wyatt returned to the desk that had basically been his home for the last three months and finished stacking the books into some semblance of order, all the while mentally berating himself. He couldn't do a thing to stop Armageddon, his sister was brainwashed by a demon without him noticing, and his brother was battling the Underworld with some random person. Anything else?

"Hello, Wyatt."

"Oh what now!?" Wyatt snapped, spinning round to face his latest visitor. The blonde-haired Elder didn't look in the slightest bit offended at his greeting (or lack thereof) and just smiled sadly, her hand clasped in front of her white and gold robes. "Sorry, Sandra. I'm just under a lot of…"

"Pressure," Sandra finished. "I understand. And I am afraid I am not here to alleviate it any."

Wyatt knew bad news when he heard it. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the edge of the desk. "What is it?"

"We know with certainty when the Darkness will begin," Sandra said forlornly. "Saturday, November 6th 2027, at 19.47."

Wyatt sank into a chair, the colour draining from his face as the weight of the deadline weighed heavily on his shoulders. He felt claustrophobic, trapped, buried under the lives of the billions of people that he now held in his hands. He had known, even before the predictions, that it was his destiny to save the world or whatever, but it had never felt real. It had always been something far off and vague. A title to be proud of, not an impossibly heavy cross to bear. His dazed mind struggled to calculate just how long he had.

Sandra watched him sympathetically, and then reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. "This is a lot to take in, too much for one man to handle. You should take that vacation, and then call on your family's help. You will need to be refreshed and ready for what is to come."

Wyatt blinked up at her, a small part of his mind wondering how she could possibly know of his holiday plans, but the rest of him just staring in disbelief. "You've just dumped on me the fact that I have twenty-three days, five hours and seventeen minutes to figure out how to save the world, and you want me to take a _vacation?_"

"I understand," Sandra squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "You have always been told that this was your destiny, and in truth it is. But you will not succeed in the state that you are now. Take a break, share the burden, and I am sure that the fate of this world will be nothing but good."

And with that, the Elder took her leave.

Wyatt stared numbly for an indeterminable amount of time. And then he turned back to his books.

* * *

**Ayala Cove, Angel Island SF – 6****th**** November 2027**

_Two weeks to go._

Chris tried to shake that thought from his head, but once it had wormed its way in he knew there was no way to get rid of it. On the 20th November he was going to turn twenty-four. And he was going to die.

After erasing his sister's memory and the death of his grandpa, Chris had fallen back on old habits. It was as if he were back in the past once again, fighting to save the future while battling against the deadline of his conception. In order to stay focused and together he had picked up the obsession of demon hunting. He would be gone soon. He wouldn't be able to help his family fight. And so he was systematically vanquishing as many demons as he could before that happened.

He highly doubted that's what Clarence had had in mind when he told Chris not to waste his second life, but that's what he was doing anyway. He couldn't just hang around and wait for Death. He had to do something – this was just Chris's failsafe way of coping.

He knew he was worrying his siblings, but that couldn't be helped. He avoided Melinda as much as possible, worried that despite his mental blocks she would be able to rediscover his secret, or worse, figure out what he had done to her. Every time he saw Wyatt they always ended up arguing; both of them stressed out and unintentionally taking it out on the other. It wasn't ideal. It wasn't exactly the way Chris wanted to spend his last days with his siblings, but it hurt too much to do it Clarence's way.

But Chris pushed all of that out of his mind, strengthening his mental walls as much as he could, and then orbed to some island in the middle of the Bay that Wyatt had insisted he go to the last time they had argued.

"You're late." Wyatt stated before Chris had even completely reformed.

Chris just rolled his eyes and took in their surroundings. They were in the middle of a clearing of trees not far inland from a deep cove in the island. The sea was visible through the foliage behind them, and the ground was a mix of dirt and sand. The sun had begun to set a few hours ago, leaving only a weak stream of moonlight to illuminate the evening darkness. And they weren't alone.

Wyatt leant against a tree trunk at the edge of the clearing, looking stressed out and avoiding eye contact with everyone. Near him was Melinda, her long hair tied back and a second potion bag as well as the one she always carried thrown over her shoulder. There was also P.J and Parker waiting near the beach and the twins, Tam and Kat, perched on a couple of rocks in the middle. Chris raised his eyebrows. "What is this? A field trip?"

His younger cousins didn't appreciate the comment, each of them throwing him evil looks. Wyatt just huffed irritably. "Not that you would know because you've been off on your own for ages, but the Darkness starts tonight in about, oh, twenty minutes."

Chris did know that, the Elders had found him too and told him. After they had finished scolding him for his demon hunting activities that is. He didn't see why that was such a problem, but he had ignored them anyway so it didn't really matter. "Okay, so what are we doing here?"

"Waiting," Parker answered unhelpfully. Before Chris could ask _'for what?' _Wyatt picked up the explanation.

"We don't know what's meant to happen at 19.47, everyone's been kinda vague, so short of vanquishing every demon in the Underworld there's not a great deal we can do," he clarified, going OTT with the detail just to rub in the fact that Chris was supposedly out of the loop. "However, once I had a date I was able to narrow things down a little bit. I found that there are a bunch of Ancient super-powerful demons that only rise once every so many years. And only one of them is currently due…"

"Sabulo, the demon responsible for the Nevada desert; consumes huge quantities of both salt and fresh water every two-thousand-two-hundred and twenty-two years, and then disappears again," Chris finished. He really had spent way too much time in the Magic School library. Wyatt glared at him, probably calculating just how long it had taken him to find that information and hating Chris for just being able to recite it so easily. "Do you _really_ think that's the End of World demon?"

"It would make sense," Mel decided to answer, seeing the death glare her elder brother was giving Chris and bravely choosing to intervene. "Sabulo _is_ due and the Bay is a good place for him to rise. The estuary is a mix of both salt and fresh water, perfect for him, and he has a history of attacking the west coast."

"And sucking up the Bay would be pretty hard to explain," P.J joined in. "Maybe it causes exposure which causes panic which, you know, ends the world as we know it or whatever."

Chris didn't buy it at all, but for the sake of not irritating his older brother any further he decided to just go with it. "Fine. So other than 'wait', what is the plan?"

"Well, there isn't a spell or vanquishing potion what with him being Ancient and all," P.J supplied.

"But we do have the spell used to defeat the source and a whole armoury full of the strongest potions in the Book," Melinda finished, gesturing at her jam-packed potion bags.

Chris raised his eyebrows. This plan wasn't exactly filling him with confidence. Before he could point out all of its flaws however, the ground began to shake.

The twins darted to their feet, holding hands and staying in the middle of the group. They were the youngest and least experienced, their fear showing just as clearly as their determination on their faces. The rest of them formed a loose circle around them; unsure of where the enemy would attack from.

The earthquake grew in ferocity, trying desperately to knock the witches off of their feet. A strong wind blew in from the water; the air seeming to get heavier and colder as the last of the moonlight was blotted out. The evening suddenly became pitch black. Instinctively, the Halliwells huddled closer. But just as their eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness, a golden light flashed into existence.

"The beach!" Parker yelled. Chris turned to look where she was pointing, surprised to find that the sand had begun to glow and move, forming a dune out of nowhere. The ground continued to shake as they watched the sand mass take form, growing into something vaguely humanoid. It had no legs, instead rising straight from the beach in a fat pillar of sand. Arms sprouted from about the midway point though there were no hands to speak of. Two orbs hovered where the face would be; creating pupil-less eyes that seemed to glare at them nonetheless.

Basically, Sabulo looked a massive cartoon version of a personified evil sandstorm.

Wyatt grinned at his brother "I told you so!" He had to shout to be heard above the wind that was being drawn into Sabulo's tornado-like form.

"He's a little early!" Chris yelled back.

"Maybe you're watch is slow!"

"Is this really the time?!" Melinda interrupted. She would have rolled her eyes at her brothers, but the wind was so sharp she had them squinted half-closed. She pulled out a handful of potion vials and threw them all at the demon. They were simply swallowed by the swirling mass that might have been Sabulo's stomach. "Well that's not good."

The twins tried next, Kat attempting to freeze the sand demon but having no effect, and Tam creating small, insignificant explosions across his body. She did, however, manage to blow up one of his eye-orbs, eliciting an inhuman scream of pain and irritation.

In retaliation, Sabulo swept an arm out, the limb growing in length in order to reach them, and made as if to simply knock them away. Instantly, Wyatt threw up a shield to take the brunt of the attack, but a strong wind still found its way through and picked the twins up into the air. Chris grabbed them both telekinetically and eased them back to the ground to save them from a painful collision with the trees.

Parker, who had conjured herself a pair of goggles and a scarf out of thin air, darted towards them and checked that they were okay.

Sabulo withdrew his stretchy sand-arm, his large form making his moves powerful, but slow and cumbersome. Wyatt's shield dropped, and immediately Melinda and P.J continued to assault the demon with their copious amounts of potion vials. They didn't appear to be having any effect beyond annoying the giant, but there wasn't really a great deal else they could do.

Chris analysed the scene closely, watching Sabulo and trying to piece together a better way of defeating him. The demon sandstorm tried a second strike using the other arm, but was once again thwarted by Wyatt's force field. The swipe decimated the trees that surrounded them, but the sand splattered against the blue wall, only the wind created by the force of the hit passing through and battering them. The arm reformed on the other side, completely unfazed, even by the power of the Twice Blessed.

With his arm solid(ish) once again, the giant allowed the momentum of the attack to turn him around. Sabulo had apparently grown tired of the pesky witches, turning his attention back to the reason that he had risen – the Bay.

Their magic was having little to no effect on the Ancient demon – but maybe Old Magic would have a better chance.

"Wy!" Chris yelled, coming stand next to his brother. The tall blonde looked pale in the golden light of the monster, perspiration forming on his brow from the strain of holding back the two attacks. "We've got to stop him from getting to the water – create a barrier!"

Wyatt nodded, understanding what Chris was getting at even without an explanation. The pair of them had only learnt defensive spells from the old books that they had found at Magic School, and usually they were able to cast them alone. But this one would need to be strong. They both held out a hand and began chanting in unison.

Just as Sabulo reached the shore, his sandy torso barely touching the waves that were stirred up by the wind, the barrier materialised. It forcefully shoved him further up the beach and away from the water he so desperately wanted to drain. His one good eye turned back to the witches in anger. The next attack was going to be more than just a casual swipe.

But just at that moment, the clock struck 19.47.

For Chris, everything slowed down. He watched as Sabulo disintegrated into one huge cloud of destruction and came barrelling towards them. He saw Wyatt raise his hand to activate his force field, a spark of blue forming, but then dying. The powerful aura of the Twice Blessed vanished, and somehow Chris knew without a doubt that Wyatt's powers were gone. As Sabulo came within inches of crushing them all flat, Chris did the one thing he could think of.

He jumped in the way.

He called upon his powers more than he ever had before, creating a force field of his own out of telekinetic energy. The full force of Sabulo's attack collided with the wall, causing Chris to let out a shout of pain as his knees threatened to buckle. Wyatt seemed to be in a daze as he realised that his powers had failed him, and the girls looked just as surprised. Chris knew he couldn't hold it for long.

"Go!" he shouted, looking over his shoulder to make sure he was heard. Parker, P.J and the twins quickly did as they were told, disappearing in a shower of blue. "Mel, grab Wy!"

Thankfully his sister understood. She took Wyatt's hand and then threw a transportation potion at their feet, whisking them away as well. That just left Chris with an Ancient super-powered sand demon trying to crush him. The weight pushing down on the energy field made it feel as if he were trying to hold up the sky. It was taking all of his concentration and energy just to maintain it. He managed it for a few seconds as his siblings escaped, and then he focused on orbing. He felt the shield collapse, sensed a hundred-or-so tons of sand about to bury him alive

And then he appeared in the attic of the manor.

* * *

Melinda rematerialized with Wyatt next to Aunt Pearl's couch. Their cousins were waiting expectantly, each of them looking as if they had been dragged through a hedge backwards and then thrown in a wind tunnel for good measure. Melinda suspected that she didn't look much better, but waved that frivolous thought aside for the moment. Instead she began to worry.

How long would the barrier hold? What had happened to Wyatt's powers? _And_ _where the hell was Chris?_

Wyatt was thinking the same thing as he stared at the spot he expected Chris to appear. It was only seconds, but when you're not entirely sure if your brother is even still alive, those seconds tend to drag just a little. Finally, thankfully, the attic glowed blue as orbs coalesced into Chris.

He immediately dropped to his knees as if they no longer had the strength to support him. All of the energy had been drained out him, leaving him pale and exhausted. Mel and Wyatt were quickly by his side, keeping him upright. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he muttered, though he clearly wasn't. A stream of blood dribbled from his nose which he callously wiped away with his sleeve. "Just… a little… heavy… is all."

"Come on," Wyatt said as he helped Chris up and over to the couch to recover. He then glanced around at his family. The twins looked petrified; most likely thrown by the fact that the might of seven Halliwell witches had been completely ineffectual against the Ancient demon, but they would still have to go back and try again. Parker didn't look much better, once her scarf and goggles had vanished so that he could see her face. P.J was trying her best to be the calm and controlled eldest sibling, but Wyatt recognised the expression on her face as one he himself used all the time; she wasn't fooling him.

The vanquish had not gone well. And now his powers were gone to boot.

"So… what do we do now?" P.J asked, trying to keep her voice level and only failing slightly. "That barrier won't hold for long. Everything we tried was useless against that thing; and now Wy's…"

She drifted off, giving her eldest cousin a sympathetic glance. They all knew that being powerless was not fun, and in a situation like this, it was even worse. They all depended on Wyatt, maybe a little too much. He was the strongest, he could defeat anything. Without him – could they still win?

"Yeah, how did that happen?" Parker interrupted the awkward silence. She looked to Mel and Wyatt who both shrugged in a most un-reassuring manner.

"Ultimate Battle," Chris had buried his face in his hands, making his voice almost inaudible as he answered vaguely. The simple task of talking seemed incredibly taxing to him just then as he focused on not passing out from exhaustion as he desperately needed to.

"Huh?"

Mel shushed Wyatt. "He's doing that creepy thing where remembers all the stories we were ever told growing up. Which I told you to stop doing by the way. It really is creepy." She directed that last part at the brunet curled on the couch.

Chris lifted his head long enough to glare at her, before explaining a little better "During the Ultimate Battle… Wy had his powers stolen… by the Hollow. Mom didn't realise… till me and Wy came back… and told them his powers were gone."

"I remember that," Parker perked up. "Mom said that Aunt Piper grabbed Grams and Granma from a different time to recreate the Power of Three after…"

"The manor blew up," P.J finished so that Parker wouldn't have to say out loud that her mother, however briefly, had been dead. "So what, you guys go back then, fix Wy's power problem and then come back now and help us get rid of Mr Tall Dark and Sandy?"

"Right," Parker agreed. "And because time's all relative or whatever, you'll be back so quick it will be like you never left."

Melinda hated to wipe the smile off of her cousin's face, but her experience with time travel over the past year kind of completely disproved that theory. "Yeah, time travel hardly ever works like that. There's no telling how long they could be gone for; and like you said, that barrier won't hold forever."

"But without Wy's powers…" They all knew they didn't stand a chance; Parker didn't need to finish the sentence. They had barely survived _with_ Wyatt's powers.

"We have to go," Wyatt decided. But then he passed a glance at his clearly weakened baby brother. "In a little bit, that is. When Chris can stand."

"Caffeine," was Chris's grumbled reply.

Wyatt quirked a brow and smiled "The magical cure-all?"

"Exactly."

"We'll work on a spell to send you two back," Melinda gestured at herself at the cousins; and then pointed at her brothers. "And you might want to get changed. You'll freak Mom out if you show up looking like _that_."

Wyatt looked at Chris and then down at himself. Their clothes were covered in dirt, sand and a few stray leaves and twigs. They looked like a pair of refugees escaping from a massive natural disaster. He nodded "You might have a point."

* * *

Less than an hour later, they were ready. Melinda stood by the Book of Shadows, a notebook with her scrawled spell resting on top. The twins were sitting on Aunt Pearl's couch, uncharacteristically quiet after the epic failure earlier that evening. Parker and P.J were working on some more vanquishing potions for Sabulo, but they paused as the boys came back into the attic.

They had taken Mel's advice, looking significantly more presentable than they had been, though Chris still looked way too pale as far as she was concerned. They all knew that there was a limit to their magic and their powers; it was just typical that her brother would be the one to push himself past it, and now he was suffering because of it. Not that she wasn't grateful; she highly doubted that they would have escaped if it wasn't for his quick thinking, but she hated seeing him like this.

"We ready?" Wyatt asked, nodding at the Book.

"Yeah," Melinda replied, tearing the spell from the notebook. "I've written it so that I can cast it. I didn't think Chris…"

Chris smiled. "Thanks."

"That barrier won't hold for too much longer; not against Sabulo," Wyatt said, all business. "If we don't come back straight away, you're going to have to figure out some way to slow him down. But be careful."

"Relax," P.J shrugged, holding up a potion vial that was actually glowing. "We got this. Sandman's not gonna know what hit him."

"But, you know, come back quick anyway," Parker added, not looking half as confident as her older sister was pretending to be. "Just in case."

"Alright, let's do this."

Melinda took a deep breath as she studied her brothers one last time. She didn't know why, but suddenly she felt incredibly apprehensive. A horrible feeling had settled in her gut, warning her that something was about to go horribly wrong. She didn't know why; they all knew the story – Chris and Wyatt went back, got his powers back, and then came home. This was meant to happen. Technically, it already had. So why did it feel as if she was doing something wrong?

She shook her head to dislodge her negative thoughts, and then recited the spell.

_Hear these words, hear the rhyme  
__Heed the hope within my mind  
__Take them back to where they'll find,  
__What was lost in place and time_

Her brothers were immediately consumed by white orbs and whisked twenty-odd years back in time. The attic fell into silence once they were gone; all five girls waiting expectantly for them to reappear. But as Melinda had suspected, nothing happened. Five minutes passed. Then ten.

"They're not coming back, are they?" Parker asked tentatively.

"Not in time." Melinda replied, somehow knowing the words to be true.

* * *

**The Halliwell Manor – 2006**

"Well, fantastic," Paige Matthews declared sarcastically. "Are there any other problems we should be worrying about?"

White lights suddenly illuminated the archway of the sunroom; gradually forming into her nephews from the future. Wyatt and Chris glanced around their new surroundings quickly, before looking at the massive gathering of Halliwells; each from a variety of time periods.

"Wyatt!" Phoebe exclaimed, recognising the taller blonde. He smirked in acknowledgment.

"Chris," Piper greeted her (current) youngest. She analysed his slightly bedraggled appearance, her mind flashing back to the Chris who had lived with them for over a year in the past. She was surprised at how similar they were; though really, she thought, she shouldn't be. "What are you two doing here?"

Chris caught his mother's tone, trying to redirect her concerned gaze to the issue at hand.

"Somebody just screwed up our future."

* * *

**The Halliwell Manor – 2027**

"So now what?"

Melinda dragged her eyes away from the spot where her brothers should have returned and regarded her cousin. "I guess we figure out how to stop a massively powerful Ancient demon without them."

"That was really reassuring," Parker mumbled sarcastically in reply. She then picked up one of the potions her sister had made – P.J had always been the best in their generation, even though she sucked at spell-writing. Odd, for an English Major. "Do you really think these are going to work?"

P.J shrugged. "They're as powerful as they're ever going to get. At the very least they should get the Sandman's attention."

"And then what?" Parker conjured herself a tennis ball out of thin air and began bouncing and catching it. It was a nervous habit she had had ever since she was a kid, and no amount of lectures about personal gain was ever going to stop it. "Let's face it – we don't stand a chance."

"Parker!" P.J admonished, un-subtly nodding at the twins who had both just gone a whiter shade of pale. Parker had the decency to look contrite. "Look, all of you, I know this seems bad right now, but we are going to find a way to fix this. We have to."

The attic was suddenly illuminated in blue, and then faded, leaving the Elder Sandra in its wake. "Prudence is correct," she announced by way of greeting; P.J's annoyed reaction to her full name going unnoticed. "Sabulo needs to be stopped, sooner rather than later."

"Since when did Elder's make house calls?" Parker huffed, not liking being given orders by the high and mighty Elders. They had all been raised on the horror stories that was their meddling; there was no love lost between them.

Sandra ignored the question. "The barrier is still currently holding; however it is only preventing Sabulo from reaching the Bay. His influence over the weather has already spread far beyond the island, causing chaos in the city. The Cleaners have managed to make it appear as close to a normal storm as possible, but that façade will not last much longer."

"How do we stop him?" Melinda asked.

"That… we do not know," Sandra replied with honest regret in her voice.

"That's fantastic!" Parker retorted with fake enthusiasm.

"Parker!" P.J snapped again, before her younger sister could get her rant into full swing and bury the family even deeper into the Elders' bad books. Parker slouched back, making the tennis ball vanish before she crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes. "Is there anything you can do to help us?"

Sandra shook her head sadly. "I am just here to warn you. But I have always had faith in the Halliwells. I know you can do this."

And then she disappeared the way she came.

"That was helpful," Parker muttered, earning herself a punch in the arm and an irritated glare from her older sister. "What?"

P.J rolled her eyes and then turned around to address all of them. "You heard the Elder. We are five of the most powerful witches in existence – we are daughters of the Charmed Ones. One measly pile of sand is no match for us. We can do this."

"Sure," Melinda agreed with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "We can do this."

* * *

**The Halliwell Manor - 2006**

The day was saved; well at least in the past it was.

Wyatt had his powers back and was looking incredibly smug about it. Coop had not long left with Patty and Grams to return them to their time, though neither woman had really wanted to leave. Paige and Phoebe had gone back to their respective apartments, leaving just Piper and Leo with their two grown sons.

"I always hate this part," Piper tried to joke, but her smile was too sad.

"It's not really goodbye you know," Wyatt shrugged. "Technically we're at Grandpa's."

"I know," she replied, her smile becoming genuine as she studied her two boys for the last time. "But I'll miss you regardless."

Then came the hugging. She held on to them both a little too tight, as if she was afraid to let go; but after a moment she reluctantly relinquished her grip. Leo wasn't much better, though at least he had managed not to cry like his wife. "We'll see you soon."

They both nodded and then backed up a little so that their parents wouldn't be caught up in the spell.

_What was lost is found,  
__That time rewound  
__Two worlds now aligned  
__Return us to our place in time_

For the second time that day, Chris and Wyatt were swallowed in a flurry of white orbs and propelled through time. They left the manor of the past behind; expecting to find themselves there in twenty-odd years' time. As it turns out; the Powers that Be had other plans.

"What the hell?" Wyatt muttered as they reformed and took in their surroundings.

They were on a deserted street somewhere in what he vaguely recognised as downtown San Francisco; though it was difficult to tell. Store fronts were smashed in, their contents looted some time ago. Cars lined the sidewalk in various degrees of dilapidation, some still on fire, providing the only light in the middle of the night. It looked like something out of a disaster movie.

How did this happen? Did they change something they shouldn't have? No… everything had gone according to their Mom's story… Had they missed the End of the world? How much time had passed since they left? Where was everyone?

Wyatt turned to his younger brother, surprised to find him frozen with a look of complete fear on his face. "Chris?"

A mechanical hum sounded above them, a robot coming flying towards them. Chris reacted first; sending the drone plummeting into the concrete with a flick of his wrist. Wyatt looked from the smouldering wreckage and back to Chris, utterly confused. The look of fear hadn't completely vanished, but now he was alert, his eyes darting around for danger like a seasoned soldier. "Chris! What the hell is going on?"

"Wy, listen to me very carefully," Chris ignored the question completely, and grabbed his brother's arm to get all of Wyatt's attention. "Do not use your twice-blessed powers. Do not orb. And do not go home."

"What? Why?"

He wasn't honestly expecting an answer, but any chance of one disappeared as seven demons shimmered onto the street before them. They looked human; well kind of. More like super-soldiers. They were huge; the smallest six ft. tall with a muscle mass that would make Schwarzenegger jealous. They wore a black military-esque uniform swathed with an assortment of demonic and modern weapons. On their chests and their sleeves there was a symbol that Wyatt didn't recognise. Since when were demons this organised?

"Ah, so the prodigal son returns," the leader announced with a false smile that showed way too may pointy teeth. Wyatt had no idea who they were talking to or about; but judging by the way Chris had straightened at the words, he guessed that he did. "We had figured that you were dead by now."

Chris didn't answer.

"What, no sarcastic retort?" the smile widened into a feral grin. "Good. That will just make killing you so much quicker."

The demon drew a revolver faster than any Wild West cowboy and fired. Chris blindly deflected the bullet, sending it spinning into the shell of a nearby Toyota. Wyatt blinked, the whole thing happening too quick for him to see, quietly impressed by his brother's skill. But he could also see the backlash that the display of magic had had on him. Chris still wasn't 100% after their earlier brush with Sabulo, and the strain was showing.

If Wyatt ignored the ground rules Chris has set him, he might have stood a chance, but as things were he didn't honestly believe that they could win. These were clearly well-trained upper-level demons – who were also pretty good with guns. Now that was a new one. If they ran, they would just get a hail of lead to the back. Orbing was apparently bad. But how did Chris know this? And how did the demons know him?

"Fantastic!" the demon cried joyously, holding the revolver in the air. "I was hoping it wouldn't be that easy. It's been _so long_ since the boys and I have had a decent fight.

"Let's see what else you can do."

* * *

**Ayala Cove, Angel Island – 2027**

"Is that all you got?!" Parker yelled above the howling wind. She was rewarded with a mouthful of sand, but as far as she was concerned it was worth it.

Angel Island was unrecognisable. Trees had been uprooted, the landscape rewritten and the face of Mt. Livermore wiped clean. Debris from destroyed buildings, vehicles and abandoned possessions mixed up with vegetation in a cyclone that surrounded the entire island. Thankfully, the inhabitants had been evacuated just hours before Sabulo's rage had manifested in an out and out super storm; leaving just the five girls and it to battle it out.

It was not going well.

The new potions were just as useless as the old ones had been. But to be honest, that had been a forgone conclusion.

Kat's freezing powers were just as ineffective, even when used with her mother's freeze potion that replicated her ability. Realising this, she turned her attention to the flying rubble which was just as much of a hazard as the demon. She flicked her wrists and stopped a liberated sign post from smashing into her sister.

Tam flashed her a grateful look, and then returned to trying to blow up Sabulo's other eye. It was even harder than it had been earlier as now Sabulo's form was hard to find in the storm. Occasionally she would catch a glimpse of the golden orb, and she would put everything she had into blinding the demon.

It was adrenaline alone that stopped the two novice witches from giving in entirely to their fear. Yes, they had always wanted their powers back so that they could help; and no, they would never regret that decision. But there was something about facing an unstoppable demon intent on destruction to make you doubt yourself.

"Keep his attention!" P.J ordered.

Parker just about managed to swallow a sarcastic retort, and then conjured herself a weird looking air-gun. Melinda gave her a questioning look. By way of explanation, Parker loaded a potion vial into the chamber and cocked the weapon. She then aimed at Sabulo and fired. Despite the strong wind the potion-bullet flew true, causing a mini explosion where she supposed the demon's stomach might be. She grinned at her cousin "What? My throwing arm was sore!"

Melinda rolled her eyes and turned to where P.J had come to a standstill with her eyes closed in the middle of the chaos. "What are you doing?!"

P.J didn't reply, but suddenly the storm calmed down to an F2 hurricane. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, her hands held out by her sides, a strange pressure forming around her. Melinda quickly figured out the answer to her own question. The empath was attempting to channel the demon's powers – though how long she could keep that up was anyone's guess.

Above them, Sabulo seemed to shrink ever so slightly; turning his gold orb on them in a deadly one-eyed glare. "Hit him!" Mel ordered. "Hit him now!"

The cousins obliged; Parker switching her air rifle for a machine gun and Tam doubling her efforts to blast the damn demon into a million pieces.

But then things went even more wrong.

Beneath their feet, the ground began to shift. For a moment, Melinda thought she was shrinking, but when she glanced down, she found that she was actually sinking. A quick look around confirmed that all five of them were in the same situation.

She was already sunk to her knees, and as she struggled to pull herself up she dropped to her waist. Panic and fear bubbled inside of her as she wiggled and kicked as best she could; her brain supplying her with images of suffocating as she was buried alive. She tried to push herself out with her hands, but then they disappeared beneath the surface as well. A frightened squeal escaped from her lips unbidden.

She was well and truly stuck. It was only a matter of time now.

* * *

**Downtown San Francisco – Alternative 2027**

Wyatt ducked a fireball aimed at his face, deflected a bullet and rammed his knee into the gut of the demon currently trying to slit his throat with a wicked looking hunting knife.

It was a sensory overload trying to keep track of everything that was happening at once. He wasn't used to the mix of both long range and close quarters combat; having to wrestle with one demon while a firing squad tried to put a bullet in his head. It took all of his attention just to stay alive let alone actually win. He wished he could just blast all of them; but something about Chris's voice when he had told him not to was keeping him from doing so.

He was glad that he had honed his telekinesis since the dimension jumping demons all that time ago; but he was still nowhere near Chris's level. But hey, he was stopping bullets like he was Neo so he figured he was doing pretty well.

Wyatt had no idea how long they had been fighting for, but he knew that he was getting tired, and the demons clearly weren't. There were still all seven of them; and they didn't seem to be running out of ammunition either. The miniscule chance they had had of success at the start had diminished to zero. And just as Wyatt thought that… Things got worse.

A burning sensation across his chest distracted Wyatt as a huge fist came flying towards his face. Some instinct told him that it wasn't him that was injured, and just as knuckles connected with his cheek he caught a glance of his little brother.

Both Halliwells hit the ground at the same time; Wyatt with a split cheek and few dislodged teeth. Chris with a tattered shirt and charred skin where a fireball had just hit him in the chest.

"NO!"

Those little ground rules Chris set? Yeah, they just went right out the window.

Fuelled with panic and rage, Wyatt unleashed the golden light that should have wiped all seven of the demons from existence. Disappointingly, all it did was knock them onto their collective asses, but it bought Wyatt the reprieve he needed to run to his brother's side.

"What the…?" he heard one of the demons mutter as they stared at him, but Wyatt ignored them.

He grabbed his brother's arm and orbed them both to the safest place he knew. Home.

They reformed on the floor in the front room, but Wyatt didn't even notice, his focus was entirely on his little brother. Thankfully, Chris was still breathing, but it sounded ragged and pained. The heat from the fireball had cauterised the wound somewhat, stopping it from bleeding as profusely as it should, but leaving an ugly, raw burn in its place.

Without another thought, Wyatt held his hands over the wound, casting everything in a golden glow. He could feel just how close the injury had been to being fatal as he waited impatiently for the torn skin to knit itself back together. He couldn't tell if Chris had the worst luck, or the best – the amount of times over the past year alone that he had just about managed to pull him back from the brink of death. Wyatt hated to think when that luck would run out.

With a desperate gasp, Chris shot upright; his hand pressing to his freshly healed chest as his eyes roamed around their new location. His breathing calmed to stunned silence with impossible speed.

Relieved to see his brother conscious, but somewhat disconcerted by his reaction, Wyatt took the time to really look at the Manor he had orbed them to. It definitely was the Halliwell Manor; he could tell that from the architecture and the furniture; but beyond that it was unrecognisable. Everywhere there were displays of artefacts and weapons; as well as several mannequins adorned with outfits he vaguely recalled from the stories his mother used to tell them.

It wasn't a home. It was a museum.

Chris climbed to his feet, giving the room one last shocked stare before he turned on his older brother. "Do you _ever_ listen?"

"Chris! You nearly died! I wasn't exactly thinking about your cryptic warnings!" Wyatt snapped back, standing up as well. "Now why don't you tell me what is going on and where the hell we are?"

Chris was about to yell back, but then blinked, his attention caught on something over Wyatt's shoulder. "Oh God no."

"Now, now Christopher," an eerily familiar voice scolded. Wyatt turned around to face the newcomer. His jaw nearly hit the ground as all the pieces finally came together. "Is that really any way to greet your brother after all this time?"

Wyatt knew exactly where they were.

The bad timeline.

* * *

**Ayala Cove, Angel Island – 2027**

"P.J!" Melinda yelled, finally finding her voice, though there was no way she could keep the panic out of it. "Can you channel this?!"

P.J shook her head, looking just as wiped out as Chris had earlier. She didn't have the strength left to even struggle, let alone tap into another one of the Ancient demon's powers. The storm had returned full force without P.J holding it back, but right then, that was the least of their problems.

They were all buried up to their chests by now, their arms trapped below the surface along with the rest of them. In mere minutes they would all be taking their last sand-filled breaths. They had to get out of there! There was no way Melinda could reach the transportation potion that her brother's insisted that she always had on her. Not for the first time, Melinda cursed the fact that she couldn't orb.

_Wait._

Orb?

"Tam! Kat! Listen to me!" Melinda shouted. The twins were already buried to their shoulders; their faces shock white, eyes wide and fear etched into every feature. Mel's voice only managed to get through to Tam, who turned her head slightly to meet her cousin's gaze. "You need to orb! Orb to us and then home!"

"I'm trying!" Tam practically screamed. "I can't! It's not working!"

"It's alright!" Melinda called back, trying to sound reassuring, but unable to swallow the squeal of fear as she dropped to her shoulders as well. "It's because you're panicking! Calm down and focus!"

"_CALM DOWN?!"_ Tam retorted, clearly nowhere near calm. "We're about to die very painfully! Don't tell me to _calm down!"_

Melinda just about resisted the urge to sigh impatiently. "Tam!" she yelled, accidently tapping into her telepathy in a way she never had before. It was impossible to see in the darkness and the storm, but Tam's eyes had glazed over, and she became completely docile. And obedient. "Tam! Orb us out of here_ now_!"

And then everything turned blue.

All five of them dropped unceremoniously onto the floor of the attic, coughing up sand and revelling in the fact that they were still alive and able to move. They had survived.

Melinda reached hand to her temple where a headache was beginning to form. Nearby, Tam sat up, blinking around completely dumbstruck. "What just happened?"

"That was awesome!" Parker exclaimed, grinning as she wrapped her arm around Tam's shoulders. "You just saved all our lives! Who knew you could remote orb, huh?"

"Remote… orb…?" Tam muttered, confused. Back on the island the five of them had been spread out, and yet they had all been transported home at the same time. The only way to do that was by remote orbing – a power that had taken their mother years to learn. "I don't… I don't remember…"

Melinda chewed her lip, wondering if she had really done what she thought she had just done. But she kept those thoughts to herself as she turned her attention to her older cousin. P.J was still lying on the floor, her eyes closed and her skin feverishly pale. "Are you alright?"

"Mmm-hmm," P.J murmured, not bothering to open her eyes. "Tired."

Parker knelt by her sister's side, her previous joviality gone as she decided to voice what they all were thinking. "We didn't stop Sabulo."

"True," Melinda agreed. "But we kept him distracted for a while. Hopefully the barrier will be able to hold a little longer now…"

"But then what?" Parker asked. "We were just an annoyance to that thing. We _can't _stop it. And we won't survive Round 3."

Melinda sighed heavily, knowing the truth of Parker's words. Sabulo was way too strong for them; that much was very, very clear. She still couldn't shake the panic that had swallowed her heart as they were all pulled slowly into their graves. She didn't know if she would have the courage to face the Ancient demon again. But her cousins were looking to her to figure something out – she couldn't tell them she had nothing.

And then something weird happened. Something propelled Melinda to her feet and she wandered aimlessly over to the attic window. There was nothing to see, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming. A bright light flashed in the distance. Her stomach flip-flopped like a boat riding a rough wave.

And then it was all gone.

"Did you feel that?"

* * *

**The Halliwell Manor – Alternative 2027**

Wyatt stared at his evil counterpart in horror. His curly blonde hair was long and pulled back into a ponytail; his clothing ensemble completely black and finished with a leather long coat and biker boots. The blue eyes that Wyatt saw every day in the mirror stared back at him, cold and unfeeling.

He couldn't believe it. Sure, he had known that he was basically the Source in another life, but actually having to face that? It just did not compute.

The Other Wyatt looked him up and down with a raised eyebrow and a look somewhere between disgust and disappointment. Then he looked at Chris. "So this is what you were so desperate to turn me into? Pathetic. I think he's the one that needs saving now."

"H-how…?" Chris managed to stutter out. "Y-you sh-shouldn't…"

Other Wyatt smirked. "Your little time-travel plan not working out quite as planned?" he mocked. Wyatt felt Chris flinch behind him, and just about managed to bury the urge to punch his other-self in the face for hurting their little brother. "You didn't change a thing, Chris – we're still here! All you did was run away."

"No…"

"Shut up," Wyatt stepped up to his other-self. "Leave him alone. He saved me from becoming you, and standing here, looking at you right now, I'm immensely grateful."

Other-Wyatt rolled his eyes. "He just made you weak. And you're too blind to see it."

"See _this_!" Wyatt snapped, throwing a golden energy wave at his other-self. It caught his counterpart with enough surprise to send him flying into the wall and thudding to the ground. Wyatt turned to Chris, who was frozen in shock, his green eyes clouded over. "Come on Chris – we've got to get out of –"

A powerful tug yanked Wyatt off of his feet and into a display case that shattered on impact. Shards of glass cut his skin, but he paid that no mind, knowing that his self-healing would fix it up in a moment.

The attack seemed to have jolted Chris awake as he retaliated with a telekinetic throw of his own. With a wave of his hand the Other Wyatt negated the attempt, and then he held out his other arm in a choke hold. Immediately Chris's hands flew to his throat to try and alleviate the grip, but it was useless. He was lifted into the air, struggling to breathe as a version of his older brother tried to kill him.

"Stop!" Wyatt yelled. He didn't have the strength for another golden wave, so he threw out a force field instead. It collided with Other-Wyatt's legs and swept them out from under him, breaking his concentration long enough for Chris to drop to the floor in a heap. Wyatt ran to his side, but kept his attention on his other-self who was already getting up.

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder followed by the familiar sensation of being orbed.

"He can't follow us here," Chris murmured quietly by way of explanation when they reformed.

They were outside again, the black sky providing very little light by which to see. But Wyatt could make out enough to know that they were in a cemetery. It was only small, situated on the top of a hill with a single oak tree casting a heavy shadow over the stones. Each grave marker was cared for, the white stone engraved with gold that reflected the meagre moonlight.

_Cooper. Mitchel-Matthews. Halliwell._

This was their family. The family that had lost their lives by his other-self's hand. Closing his eyes to both stop the tears and blot out the image, Wyatt took a deep breath. It wasn't him. There was no way in hell he was ever going to become him. He would never hurt his family.

He looked over at Chris who was sitting with his back against the side of their mother's grave, his knees drawn up to his chest and his face gaunt. He looked so young and completely broken in that moment, that Wyatt lost the ability to talk. There was nothing he could say that would make this better. And he highly suspected that he was the last person Chris wanted to face after meeting his other-self.

How could he bare to look at him after everything that had been done to him by his doppelganger?

"They're still here," Chris muttered, breaking the silence. He stared straight ahead, quite possibly not knowing that he had just said that out loud. "I didn't change anything. I didn't save anyone. I just left."

"Chris…" Wyatt began, but trailed off, not knowing how to continue.

"I ran away," Chris went on forlornly as if Wyatt had never spoken. "I had a good life, oblivious, while they stayed and suffered. I left them. I left them behind with _him_ because I couldn't stop him myself. How could I have done that…? I've gotta…" he made to get up, but Wyatt placed his hands on his brother's shoulders and kept him down. "What are you…? I've gotta help them… Prue… I know where she is now! Let me…"

"Chris! Chris, listen to me," Wyatt cringed as his little brother flinched at his raised voice. But it had had the desired effect and the younger man stopped struggling for a moment. "This isn't your time. This… this is some mistake, I don't know, some leftover echo of a time that _doesn't exist_. We need to focus of getting home. Back to the _real_ 2027, alright?"

Chris shook his head, slipping out of his brother's grip and staggering to his feet. "No… they're here. They're still here…"

"Chris! Listen!" Wyatt's voice wavered with concern as he saw a side of his little brother he never wanted to see. Chris's whole world had just come crumbling down; his greatest achievement ripped out from under his feet and sending him spiralling into guilt and despair. "Here, our family is already gone," Wyatt gestured at the graves, wincing at the pained glare Chris sent him. It was a low blow, but he needed his brother's attention. "But back home our _real_ family is fighting a demon that they can't beat without us. Who knows how long we've been gone for? Our world could be falling apart right now…

"This one is already lost." Wyatt finished.

"Your brother is right, Christopher."

Both boys squinted as a bright light suddenly illuminated the dark night. A gold orb fizzled like a bumble bee and spun into the form of a regal looking woman wrapped in a white dress. Wyatt furrowed his brow as Chris scowled at the woman and turned his back in annoyance. "Who are you?"

The woman smiled. "I am an Angel of Destiny."

Wyatt glanced over to his brother who was still stubbornly ignoring the woman, confused by the reaction. "Okay… what are you doing here?"

"I am here to explain," The Angel said to both of them, though her focus fell mainly on Chris. She didn't seem at all surprised or offended by the younger brother's attitude. "Things like this do not occur very often, not even we know the entire science or theory behind it, but I will do my upmost to alleviate your confusion."

She paused, as if trying to find the best place to start. "Major changes to the timeline such as the one Christopher created do not happen often. Usually the alterations are just worked into the current world, however this time the whole planet has been changed – the ripples of your actions felt by every single person. This forces the creation of a_ temporary_ parallel world."

"Huh?" Wyatt asked intelligently, not getting it at all.

The Angel smiled. "Think of it this way. There are nine billion people on this planet, and all of them have their own Destinies. However all those Destinies now need to be rewritten, as the world they were created in is now completely different. Contrary to popular believe, time is not relative, changes are not felt instantaneously. Ironically, time _needs_ time to adjust."

"Alright…" Wyatt nodded, beginning to understand, if only a little. "So while that's happening, both worlds exist…?"

"Exactly," The Angel nodded at Wyatt as if he were still at school. She then turned to speak directly… to Chris's back. "Yes, Christopher, the world you left to change is still here, and has continued on without you. But this is not the world that will survive the merge. This world has no future beyond today – look."

Somewhat reluctantly, Chris did as he was told. Wyatt followed their line of sight, surprised to find a white light rising on the horizon. He squinted, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the suddenly bright onslaught. Then he saw something that is incredibly difficult to describe. The air itself began to waver across everything the light touched, like the haze created on a hot day. Through the haze, things began to change, like a double-exposed before and after image that flickered in the breeze.

"The merge is complete, and now this world is being erased," The Angel explained.

"Um… what about us?" Wyatt asked – not liking the term 'erased'.

"For you, you will just be returned home. You have never belonged here and therefore you have no anchor to keep you from leaving. For Chris, however…" The Angel turned to the brunet, who just rolled his eyes, completely resigned to the fact that he would always get the short end of the stick.

"This may hurt."

* * *

**The Halliwell Manor – 2027**

That was the understatement of the century.

Painful couldn't even begin to describe the sensation for Chris. It felt as if he was chained to the earth, and as the time wave came he was caught in a tug of war. He was being pulled in two different directions – part of his soul tied to the world being erased; the rest of him trying to return to the new world he had created. As both sides gripped him like a vice, he had no idea which one would win. He was being torn apart as the cosmos tried to right itself.

And then it was over.

He dropped to his knees in the front room of manor, struggling to remember how to breathe. Wyatt was by his side in an instant, gripping his shoulders and providing Chris with a much needed anchor to the real world.

After a moment he blinked. "I'm alright…"

"No, you're not," Wyatt replied, meeting his brother's eyes and holding them. He was referring to the emotional rollercoaster he had just been taken on, and Chris knew he was right. He had not been prepared to face the world he had thought no longer existed. Sure, _now_ it was gone, but he couldn't shake the guilt that had settled in his gut when he had realised time for his old life had kept on going without him. After a moment, Chris nodded in agreement. "We'll talk about it later. Let's go find out how the girl's got on with Sabulo."

Wyatt pulled Chris to his feet, keeping his hand on his younger brother's arm as he wavered slightly. And then they headed up to the attic to find the girls in varying degrees of exhaustion.

"You're back!" Parker greeted with a smile. She was still seated on the floor beside her older sister who was taking a nap after the exertion of channelling Sabulo's powers. The twins were huddled together next to the couch, looking windswept and shocked. Melinda stood by the window, an odd expression on her face.

"Yep, we are," Wyatt smiled brightly, trying to bolster the confidence that was severely lacking in the room. "Care to fill us in?"

While Parker regaled the brothers with their wild adventure, Chris focused on getting his emotions in check. His thoughts kept straying to the other world; the faces of Resistance members that had trusted him... Bianca... that alternative version of Prue trapped in the Menagerie. All the people he had left behind while he enjoyed a new life that he had created for himself. But he _couldn't_ think about that now – his attention was needed in the real world that still existed. At least for the foreseeable future.

"Alright," Wyatt said once Parker had finished. "Third time lucky?"

"I'm not sure that's such a great idea," Mel answered. "Nothing works on this thing. I don't even know if we can…"

"We know what we're up against now," Wyatt interrupted, addressing all of them like the wise and powerful leader he was destined to be. "This demon is attacking our city and is _this close_ to exposing magic to the world. Unless we stop him. The Elders have been warning us about a 'coming darkness' for months now; and this could be it. We will stop it. We have to."

Chris pasted a smile on his face and punched his brother on the arm. "Not bad Arthur."

Wyatt rolled his eyes, but smiled back. The girl's brightened up as well; even the near-comatose P.J climbing to her feet with everyone else. "Alright. Let's do this."

* * *

**Ayala Cove, Angel Island – 2027**

Third time's a charm?

Not so much.

Chris fought alongside his stubborn family, but he knew a losing battle when he saw one. Potions were useless. Powers were useless. Even the vanquishing spell that took out the Source was useless. The storm had grown to cover half of the city. The barrier keeping Sabulo from the Bay was moments away from blinking out of existence.

It was over.

Not that Halliwells knew when to quit. They just kept on hitting the sand demon with everything they had; regardless of the fact that it was completely futile.

Chris was about to try and convince his brother that a tactical retreat was the only way that they would survive; when he sensed something. He had no idea what it was, but it was dark – much darker than the evil aura Sabulo projected. It filled him with dread, hopelessness and fear; making him entirely forget about the Ancient demon. He turned away, trying to pinpoint where the feeling was coming from.

His gaze latched onto a pair of cold eyes.

And then the world turned black.

* * *

"_Chris…?"_

The voice sounded so far away that he wasn't even sure that he had heard it. He was floating along a river of nothingness, not knowing where he was or why. He couldn't feel a thing. He couldn't even muster up the energy to panic about what was happening.

"_Chris, honey… you need to wake up… Come on…"_

But that voice did sound familiar. It was female, and caring, and worried. What was there to worry about? There was nothing. Just pure nothingness. He didn't want to leave. And yet he felt himself being pulled towards the voice regardless.

"_That's it. Wake up Peanut."_

Peanut? Mom? What? Why? Where?

He blinked his eyes open, trying to pull his thoughts into some semblance of order. He found himself lying on a hard floor with his mom leaning over him, her brown orbs full of concern. She smiled at him, but he noticed that it didn't quite reach her eyes. What had happened?

Ignoring his body's protests he pushed himself upright. He was in the attic of the manor; morning sunlight streaming through the stained glass and casting coloured patterns on the wooden floor. Melinda was leaning against the couch nearby, a faraway look on her face. His aunts were there as well, tending to their respective children who were in varying degrees of consciousness. "What happened…?" he asked out loud, but didn't receive a reply.

He looked around again, realising that something very important was missing.

"Where's Wyatt?"

* * *

**Chris's Apartment – Two Days Later…**

"_Crime is on the rise following the freak storm that left half of the city without power two nights ago. As expected, many stores have been looted; and there have been multiple reports of burglaries and home invasions. What is unexpected, however, is the onslaught of violent crime that has swept the city…"_

The news reporter continued from the television screen that provided the only light in the room. It cast everything in an eerie glow, making the lone occupant appear an odd shade of green.

Chris ignored the fact that his arm had gone completely dead hours ago. He simply propped it up with his knee as he leaned over the coffee table. He swung the amethyst crystal around and around over the top of the map, silently begging for it to drop. He wouldn't quit.

He couldn't.

"…_the increase in the number of physical assaults, muggings, riots, and even traffic collisions, has left experts perplexed. The death toll post-storm has risen to 75; the casualties far exceeding that…"_

"Chris…?" Sean Cooper asked uncertainly, rubbing tired eyes as he leaned against the door frame to his room. "What are you still doing up?"

Chris didn't even dignify that with an answer. As far as he was concerned it was pretty damn obvious. No one knew what had happened two days ago. When they woke up, they had found that Sabulo had disappeared. And so had Wyatt.

So yeah. That answered that stupid question.

"…_social scientists have hypothesized the sudden rise in violence to be a reaction to the uncertain political climate following the scandal surrounding the local election…"_

"You've been scrying for days," Sean said, still keeping his distance. "You know it's not going to work."

Chris ignored that as well. What the hell else was he meant to do? His whole family had been searching ever since Wyatt had disappeared; exhausting every method of finding him that they could think of. But there was nothing. Chris had shaken down every demon he could get his hands on in the Underworld, and none of them knew anything. They couldn't summon him. They couldn't sense him.

"Maybe…" Sean suggested hesitantly. "Maybe you can't find him… because he's…"

"He's not dead."

"_In other news; experts are still baffled as to the cause of the storm. Conflicting theories have sparked a heated debate in the scientific community; many claiming that the hybrid sand storm/hurricane is not even possible. They have reassured however, that such an event is a freak of nature and highly unlikely to reoccur…"_

"I would know," Chris finished by way of explanation. The connection he had shared with his brother for as long as he could remember was still there. It wasn't helping in the slightest – but it was there. "He's not dead."

Sean nodded, though he didn't look like he believed his Whitelighter. But Chris couldn't care less. He knew his brother was alive.

And he would do whatever it took to find him.

* * *

**Oh no! Wyatt's missing! Some unknown Big Bad is up to some nefarious scheme… Whatever will our favourite Witchlighter do...?**

**You'll just have to wait and find out :P**

**Pretty please review!**


	9. Twenty-Four

**Charmed -:- Borrowed Time**

**Episode Summary:**

**(Part One of Three) **With Wyatt still missing the Halliwells are in shambles; desperately searching anywhere and everywhere, however, his absence is soon to be the least of their problems. It's the beginning of the End and all hell has broken lose, literally. This is one birthday no one will ever forget…

**Author's Note(s):**

Thanks so much to **Crystalzap, Charmed Ravenclaw, Guest, l3largus, TARDIS BLUE PROPHET, **and **Kokoro E. Junnaya **for reviewing! I am so happy that you are enjoying and I'm really grateful for your kind words – they are great motivators! Sorry this took so long – but in my defence, it is really, really long :P

And just to help folks out with keeping track of the extended family; here are the basics:

**Piper & Leo:  
**Wyatt – 25 – Orbing, Healing, Self-Healing, Sensing, TK, Force Field, Super-Mass-Vanquish-Golden-Wave-Thing, and probably some others…  
Chris – 23(4) – Orbing, Sensing, Advanced TK  
Melinda – 19 – Telepathy

**Phoebe & Coop:  
**P.J (Prudence Joanna) – 20 – Empathy  
Parker – 18 – Conjuring  
Peyton – 13 – Clairvoyance

**Paige & Henry:  
**Tamara – 16 – Orbing, Sensing, Molecular Combustion  
Kat – 16 – Orbing, Sensing, Freezing  
Henry Jr. – 15 – Mortal

Now this is the part I've been waiting to write since way back at the beginning of this fic – the epic three-part finale. If I do my job right, by the end of this chapter I should have made you cry and most likely; incited your mad rage and declarations of my being evil. Alas, this is the downside of being a writer… :P

Quick warning though: there is a lot of cursing this chap – sorry if you find it offensive, but giving the situation I've created, it's kind of appropriate…

But ignore me now – Enjoy!

* * *

**Nine -:- Twenty-Four **

**Saturday 20****th**** November 2027**

**The Halliwell Manor**

Piper Halliwell could not shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong.

Beyond the obvious, of course.

Her eldest son was still missing, and had been for two weeks; none of their efforts to find him working. She doubted anyone in the family had slept for more than a few hours since Wyatt had disappeared – she knew that she hadn't. To add insult to injury; the city that they called home was falling into chaos. The government had instigated a curfew to try and minimise the sheer volume of violent crime, but it hadn't solved a thing. If anything, the situation was just getting worse and no one could explain it.

Oh, and just to top it all off – her children had failed to mention a certain Doomsday prophecy.

But none of that explained the feeling that twisted her gut into knots. She was wound tight; every little sound and movement being misconstrued as something both dangerous and hopeful. The manor would creak, like all old houses do, and she would be so sure that it was Wyatt coming home, but at the same time positive that some demon had just come to make her day worse. But it was neither. Every time it would just be the grumbled complaints of old wood, and Piper would draw in a deep breath to bring her fast-beating heart back under control.

For two weeks she had been like this, but there was something about that day in paticular that was making everything feel twice as bad. She couldn't put her finger on it. Some instinct was warning her, desperately trying to tell her that no matter how bad things currently were, what was coming was so much worse.

She sat on a cushion on the floor of the attic; an altar and cauldron arranged before her and the Book of Shadows spread across her lap. Several other books that Melinda had liberated from Magic School lay scattered around her, the entirety of their contents tried and tested over the past two weeks. No one had ever been missing this long – they were a family of witches! Their magic was meant to be able to find anything – anyone! And yet…

Chewing on her bottom lip to stop herself from giving in to tears, Piper took a pinch of rosemary and flicked it into the silver cauldron. She then took a sprig of Cypress and a yarrow root and added them as well. They were running out of all three from the amount of times that she had cast the spell, but Piper didn't think about that as she began grinding the herbs with a pestle.

_Power of the witches rise,  
__Course unseen across the skies  
__Come to us who call you near  
__Come to us and settle here_

She picked up a small blade, using the tip to reopen the small wound on her left index finger. She didn't even flinch at the pain; she just watched and prayed as she let the blood drip.

_Blood to blood, I summon thee  
__Blood to blood, return to me_

She closed her eyes as she said the final two lines, picturing Wyatt in her mind's eye. She imagined how happy and relieved she would be when he appeared in a swirl of white orbs, unharmed and a little grumpy that his rescue had taken so long. Then she would hug him so tight because she was just so terrified she would let him go and he would disappear once again.

She heard a tinkling sound from behind and felt a puff of displaced air on the back of her neck. Her eyes flew open as she spun around, hope filling her chest…

"Sorry."

Piper couldn't help the disappointment that flashed across her features. The tears she had been fighting spilled against her will as she took a deep breath and forced a smile onto her face. "That's all right, Chris," she tried to sound reassuring, but the sad look on her younger son's face assured her that she wasn't succeeding. "Have you found anything?"

He shook his head, avoiding her eyes as he shifted a little uncomfortably. "I just needed to look something up in the Book… I didn't mean to… I didn't realise…"

Piper scrubbed the tears away before she stood up with the Book and held it out to him. "It's all right," she said again, as if repeating the words would somehow make them true. Chris took the large tome tentatively and placed it back on its pedestal. Piper watched him for a moment, something beginning to niggle at the back of her mind, her stomach tying itself into an extra knot. "What are you looking for?"

"We finally managed to find a demon that was willing to talk," Chris explained without looking up, coming to stop on a page. She watched his green eyes flicker back and forth as he read the entry. "It was low level, so it didn't know a lot, but it heard a clan of Rubeck demons talking about the Twice Blessed…"

Piper nodded; though she refused to get her hopes up again. Demons weren't exactly the most reliable sources of information, and she didn't think she could handle the disappointment if this was just another wild goose chase.

"We'll find him, Mom," Chris said determinedly, finally meeting her eyes and holding them. What she saw there made her heart ache. The green was practically colourless from exhaustion, his eyes blood shot from lack of sleep. But that wasn't what got her the most. It was the pain and the guilt and the worry, the latter of which she was sure was reflected in her own brown orbs as well. She could see him shouldering the responsibility; a mix of Halliwell stubbornness and family loyalty keeping him from dealing with something else. What, she didn't know, but there was something haunting his gaze that had nothing to do with Wyatt or the End.

Her stomach twisted, as if to say _hint, hint; nudge, nudge_, but she didn't understand. Instead she just gave her son's arm a squeeze "I know we will."

He closed the Book, gave her one final look to seal his promise, and then disintegrated into a column of blue. It was then that Piper caught on to what was bugging her and she reached out to grab the retreating orbs "Chris – wait!"

But he was already gone. She sighed heavily, wrapping her arms around herself as she said to the empty room

"Happy Birthday."

* * *

**San Francisco Police Department, Twelfth Precinct **

"Dad… not that I'm not grateful…"

Henry Mitchel glanced up from his ocean of paperwork momentarily to give his adoptive son a quizzical look; before his attention was grabbed by a brawl that had just broken out outside of his office. The thug in question fought madly; his eyes wild and crazed as he made a bid for freedom. It took six uniformed officers and a Taser to bring the guy down before he was dragged off and out of sight. He looked back at Junior "Sorry, what was that?"

Henry Jr. sighed and gestured out at the now empty hallway. "That was my point being made."

"Huh?"

Junior slumped into the seat where his father's parolees usually sat and rolled his eyes. Thankfully Henry missed it as his attention was once more pulled to his workload. "Look, Dad. It's great that you agreed to do this 'take your kid to work day' or whatever, and any other day it would have been awesome…" A runaway prisoner pelted past the doorway, pursued by a cop sporting a black eye and split lip. "…but I'm thinking you guys have got your hands full and I'm just in the way."

"You're not in the way, Junior," Henry assured. The escapee ran back the way he had come from, clearly lost in the rabbit warren of a police station. The bruised officer followed, tripping the criminal so that he lost his balance and collided with the door frame. "It's just a little hectic…"

"Little help?!" The officer cried as the escapee once again ran off having clocked the cop in his good eye with his elbow.

"I'll just be a second," Henry gestured for Junior to sit tight and then dashed into the hallway. The teenager sighed and leant back in his chair so that he got a riveting view of the ceiling. He really had been happy when his dad had agreed to do the school project; what with all the females in their family being magical it was often hard for Henry to spend any time with his dad. But this wasn't how he had imagined things would be.

At 9am that morning when he had stepped into the police station, the massive grin that he had been wearing for days (despite the drama of his missing cousin – but there wasn't really anything he could do to help with that…) had fallen right off his face.

He knew police stations were busy, a little chaotic even, but overall they were meant to be the centre of law and order. He guessed that someone had forgotten to tell the SFPD that.

The waiting area once you step through the door reminded Henry Jr. of the New Year sale that his Aunt Phoebe had once insisted on taking him to a few years prior. It was a mass of people; from handcuffed criminals to hysterical parents reporting missing children to the overworked and underpaid officers on duty trying desperately to juggle everything at once. It was noisy and tense; impatience, fear and irritation mingling into an almost physical form that filled the building.

He had seen the news, heard the scary reports of the 'unprecedented rise in violent crime', but it hadn't really seemed real. Not until he had walked into the heart of the chaos and witnessed the aftereffects as the boys in blue tried to institute calm and keep control. It was a losing battle – that much was obvious.

Henry Jr. was yanked from his musings by the arrival of an unexpected, and unwanted, guest. The strange man that had just barrelled into the room looked feral; his beard long, his hair untamed and his teeth bared in an animalistic grimace. And to top of that threatening enough sight, he also brandished a liberated pistol which he was now aiming in the teenager's general direction.

_Crap._

But Henry Jr. was a mortal kid raised in a family of witches. Self-defence and the ability to act under pressure had been drilled into him since before he had even mastered the art of walking. Before the feral man could form a plan, or more importantly, pull the trigger, Junior jumped to his feet. With one hand he grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the gun and squeezed hard, following through with a right hook that sent the man reeling. He still didn't relinquish his grip, so Henry Jr. added his free hand, now with bloody knuckles, to the death grip on the man's wrist, forcing him to drop the weapon. Before the gun hit the floor, Junior caught it, spun it to hold it like a club, and smacked the man up the side of the head.

With a surprised grumble the man sank to the floor, his eyes unfocused though he was still conscious. Glancing around for resources, Henry Jr. spotted the lamp on his father's desk and pulled the cord out of the wall. Putting the gun out of the mad man's reach, he knelt down and pulled the man's arms behind his back and tied his wrists with the lamp's cord.

Grinning from leftover adrenaline and more than a little pride at his successful fight, Henry Jr. sat back on his chair.

"Sorry about that… that guy was qui…" Henry trailed off as he came to a stunned stop at the door frame. His eyes travelled from the tied-up criminal, to the gun lying on the desk, to his rather smug looking son. "What happened?"

Junior shrugged, letting the scene say it all.

"Okay… maybe you _should_ go home," Henry said, his eyes wide with concern.

"What? No!" the teenager scrambled to his feet. "This is _awesome_!"

* * *

**Magic School**

Never underestimate the power of a father whose son is missing.

He may now be mortal; essentially helpless in the matters of all things magical, but that doesn't make him useless. Because Leo Wyatt is not just an ex-Whitelighter/Elder/Avatar and father of three. He is the Headmaster of the largest magical educational facility this side of the mortal realm.

And he can make his staff work weekends.

He had all forty-eight members of the faculty scrying, researching or peering into the depths of seer's bowls; anything that could possibly locate his missing son. In the library Leo had taken up research duty, needing to do something in order to feel useful and stop him from cursing his lack of power. By now he was sure he had read every book ever printed on the subject of finding a lost witch; and yet none of the information that he gleaned turned out to be beneficial to the search.

Nearby, the Advanced Clairvoyance teacher, Madam Chercher, sent her scrying bowl flying with an irritated swipe of her hand. Black liquid spilt across the old oak desk and dripped onto the floor, the bowl spinning like a penny that couldn't decide between heads and tails. "This is useless."

It took everything Leo had; every patience lesson and breathing technique from his life in the clouds, to bite his tongue and ask with incredible civility "And why is that?"

Madam Chercher picked up on his tone regardless and had the decency to look contrite. "It's this Darkness that we're in the middle of," she referred to the Doomsday prediction that by now everyone was aware of. "It's not just the future that we can't see. It's the present and even the past too. I am trying to recall the day in which your son went missing, but there is nothing but black. All clairvoyants are completely blind."

"My niece can see things," Leo gestured to the far corner where Phoebe was working with her youngest daughter Peyton to try and improve the short visions she was getting.

"Glimpses," Chercher sighed. "Flashes that keep changing. She is seeing options; catching brief images of what could maybe happen. And that is purely due to her Charmed heritage. The rest of us? We have never been so completely cut off from the world. We are blind and you are telling us to look – we simply _can't_."

"I can't do nothing," Leo said firmly, his tone brokering no room for argument. "I can't give up on him."

Chercher shook her head. "I'm not telling you to. I'm telling you that this…" she gestured at the now upside-down bowl "…is not working. And as long as this Darkness continues, it never will."

"Please," Leo turned the bowl the right way up and proffered another bottle of black liquid. "Please, just keep trying. I need to find my boy."

* * *

**Rhode Island School of Design Campus**

"We shouldn't be doing this."

Melinda looked up from the campus prospectus she was perusing to give her cousin Parker a curious glance. She understood completely where the half-cupid was coming from – it was _her_ older brother that was missing after all – but she also understood the need to take a break. They hadn't found a single thing in two weeks; a couple of hours wasn't going to make a great deal of difference.

At least, that's what she kept telling herself as her stomach twisted itself in knots, scolding her for being a terrible sister.

"We weren't being of any help," P.J tried to justify, but it was clear from her tone of voice she was just as divided as the other two. "Uncle Leo has rallied the entirety of Magic School into a scrying frenzy, Aunt Piper has literally tried every spell in the Book several times over, and Chris is scouring the Underworld as we speak. All we were doing was getting in the way."

Which is why they were on the east coast checking out potential colleges for Parker to go to when she graduated in the summer. She was already a senior, she was meant to have done the college visits last year, but Magic School didn't always run on the same time table as the real world. When P.J had found out that Parker had no idea what college she was applying to, she had enlisted the help of Melinda to do a whirlwind tour of every college with an art program in the United States.

"Yeah… but…" Parker shrugged. "What if something happens while we're off doing this and we show up late with the excuse 'but Parker needs to apply to college'? It just sounds ridiculously lame compared to 'the end of the world is nigh and our only hope has vanished'."

Melinda half-smiled "Wy would blow a gasket if he heard you say that."

"College isn't lame, it's a big decision," P.J agreed. "Sure, the timing sucks, but that doesn't mean that we're wrong for doing this."

Melinda held up a transportation potion; their method of getting around the country without the benefit of eighty orbs. "Though it probably has personal gain written all over it."

Parker shifted awkwardly. It wasn't just the fact that she was uncomfortable doing something for herself when the family situation was so dire, it was the fact that she really wasn't used to being the responsible voice of reason. She was the sarcastic, 'it seemed like a good idea at the time' kind of girl, but this college thing just did not sit right with her. "Look, I can't concentrate anyway. Let's just head home and sort this…" she gestured at the campus "…out later. If the world doesn't end first."

"Alright, how about a compromise?" P.J offered. She hefted the large pile of pilfered prospectuses from the colleges they had been to already. "You liked the Academy right? Why don't we find a coffee place near there and have a look over these? It's close to home just in case there is any trouble. Sound okay?"

"We still need a break," Melinda added. "We've been looking non-stop for a fortnight and we're all running out of steam. They say that fresh eyes see clearer."

Parker chewed her lip for a moment. She knew that the whole family was exhausted, and as she studied Melinda in that moment she could see the worry in her brown eyes. She knew that her Aunt Piper was now twice as grey as she had been and Uncle Leo had turned into a slave driver. She hadn't seen Chris in two weeks, though she could imagine how little he would be taking care of himself right then. They would all need a break soon, and Parker figured they would do a better job of picking up the slack if they were at least a little rested themselves.

"Fine. Half hour, tops."

* * *

**The Underworld**

"Is it just me, or is it really quiet down here?"

Chris paused in his stride and turned to give his hunting companion a glance over his shoulder. The beautiful Phoenix assassin arched a brow and gestured at the rock walls surrounding them. "Usually you can't go twenty yards without stumbling on a low level nest," Bianca shrugged. "And yet I haven't even seen a single scavenger in the last thirty minutes."

It was true. The Underworld was eerily scarce of its usual tenants; the torch braziers scattered intermittently along the walls just lighting empty space. Every now and then they would come across larger caves with clear signs of recent occupation, but no signs of life. It was disconcerting, and it was obvious there was something going on, but as far as Chris was concerned, it was irrelevant. He was on a single-minded mission to find his brother; everything else was secondary. "Let's just find the Rubeck demons and get the information."

He turned on his heel and kept walking. Bianca looked at him curiously for a second, and then followed. The two of them had been spending a lot of time together; even before the Twice Blessed had gone missing. She had been working with Chris as he had gone on his mass vanquishing spree the last couple of months. She had told herself that she was just using him to get rid of the competition. Now, as she helped him search for the man responsible for killing her coven sister, she told herself that she was fulfilling a contract to maintain their truce.

But she wasn't stupid. She knew better.

Her initial curiosity had become an obsession. She had been raised a killer; and she was very good at it, but there was something about the man that she was following through the tunnels of hell that made her begin to question her beliefs. She had been spared by the Twice Blessed even after she had shot his brother with a Darklighter arrow. She had followed them both, trying to figure out why, becoming strangely attached to the young brunet. Her duties to her coven were slipping; her loyalties were being questioned.

It was becoming dangerous.

"We need to talk."

Chris paused again, turning all the way around to give her his full attention. He had grown up in a family of mainly women; he recognised Bianca's tone as one that would allow no argument. He bit back a sarcastic retort and tried to restrain the anxiety that had been plaguing him for a fortnight.

"This…" she gestured at the air between the two of them "…whatever it is, has got to stop."

Chris furrowed his brow in mock-confusion. "Are you breaking up with me?" Bianca rolled her eyes at him. "Because I didn't even know that we were dating. I would have taken you for _dinner_ and demon hunting."

Bianca sighed impatiently. She never had been overly good at the social side of things. Sure, she could seduce a target with little effort and could get anyone to do whatever she wanted, but casual conversation? It wasn't exactly a skill she was trained in. "No. I mean this… partnership, has to end. I cannot be seen working with a Charmed son. My coven is already suspicious. My husband thinks I'm having an affair…"

Chris choked. "Wait, what? You're _married?"_

"Arranged marriage to improve relations with the Pegasus coven," Bianca explained offhandedly, waving a hand that did not have a ring on its finger. Chris definitely would have noticed that. "But that is beside the point. We should maintain the truce we discussed, obviously, but we can no longer work together."

Chris stared at her in stunned silence for a moment as his brain struggled to come up with something to say. He never thought he would grateful to hear a jingle in his head – but right then he thanked the Elders for their surprisingly good timing. He pointed up "The Elders want to see me."

Bianca gave him a disbelieving look, but then nodded. "I will fulfil your last request," she said, very business-like. "I will help you find your brother. And then…"

"We're over," Chris finished, hating the fact that he sounded like a jaded boyfriend in that moment. Bianca picked up on his voice, the curiosity she was trying to banish creeping back up on her. "Yeah, I got that."

"I'm sorry," Bianca apologised, genuinely, for the first time in her life. She didn't even know why. The Halliwell was still her enemy, a means to an end. And yet, in a weird way, these last few months he had kind of become her…friend. Now that was a novel concept.

The jingle sounded again and Chris cast the ceiling a glance.

"Thanks," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "For helping. And you know, not killing me or anything."

Bianca half-smiled; the facial expression far more natural after a few months of putting up with Chris's sarcastic wit. "You should go."

"Right."

"I'll call you when I find him."

"Okay, yeah. Um… see ya?"

"Bye, Chris."

She watched him disappear into a column of blue light, confused by the odd pain in her chest. She really had grown far too attached to the witch, but that was over now. Their…_partnership_… was no more. This was good. She could focus once again on her duties; prove her loyalties to her coven without that strange fear of betraying Chris getting in the way. Things could return to normal. This was _good_.

But then why did it feel so wrong?

* * *

**The Golden Gate Bridge**

As Chris reformed on the top of the giant red structure he tried to push all thoughts of Bianca out of his head. It was difficult. She had been the one constant in his life recently; her presence both reassuring and reminiscent of the bad timeline when she had stuck by his side when everyone else had gone. It hurt more than he cared to admit that they were 'breaking up', and the fact that she was _married_ had definitely struck a nerve.

But he was trying _not_ to think about her.

"Christopher," Sandra greeted, though her usual warm smile was mysteriously absent. And she wasn't alone either. Beside her stood Odin, looking even grouchier than normal; which was quite a feat to achieve. "We understand that this is a difficult time…"

"Happy Birthday," Odin interrupted, the salutation not sounding in the slightest bit cheerful. Chris blinked, his internal clock trying to confirm, or hopefully deny, that today was in fact November 20th. Today was the day that his deadline ran out. Today was the day that he died.

He had completely forgotten.

Sandra glared at the older man for his complete lack of tact, and then tried to smooth the situation over. "Indeed, today is your birthday, and your time is very nearly up, but that is not why we called you here."

Chris tried to calm the fear that had built up in his chest at the realisation that he would in fact, most definitely die today and concentrate on what Sandra was telling him. Yes, he had known this day was coming for quite a while now, but with his brother being missing the last two weeks he had to admit that it had gone completely out of his head. Odin's declaration had been like a punch in the gut, making him regurgitate his survival instinct that made him terrified of his imminent death.

"Things have gotten worse," Sandra explained, her calm voice succeeding in pulling Chris out of his spiralling thoughts that all ended in the word 'death'. "Since the Darkness began a fortnight ago, demonic attacks on the surface have increased tenfold."

Chris shook his head. "Wait? Demon attacks?"

"Yes," Odin replied, his voice thick with impatience. "The increases in violence that your news shows have been prattling on about? The majority of them have been demonic, and very public."

"The Cleaners have been doing their best to keep magic from being exposed, but as of ten minutes ago, that is no longer possible," Sandra sighed, and the two Elders shared a worried glance. "The Cleaners have been vanquished."

"But that's…" Chris muttered.

"Impossible?" Odin finished. "Yes, that's what we were led to believe too. They were supposed to have been neutral, powered by The Tribunal. But now half of the Tribunal have left their posts, making the Cleaners vulnerable enough to be killed."

"I wonder which half of the Tribunal vanished," Chris said sarcastically.

"It is clear to us that something terrible is about to happen, on a scale that we have never before witnessed," Sandra said anxiously, once again sharing a look with Odin. "This is why the Angels of Destiny allowed your existence in this timeline. We have every faith that you have the strength and courage to win this coming battle. It is your Destiny."

Chris crooked an eyebrow. "I thought it was my Destiny to die."

Sandra's gaze dropped to the support beam they were standing on, so Odin took over. "I will not deny that, but if you remember correctly, you were never even meant to live. Be grateful for the time that you have been given and preserve this world for the ones you will leave behind."

Chris sighed, begrudgingly agreeing that Odin, his least favourite Elder, was right. "I take it that you guys will be of absolutely no help?"

Odin turned bright red at that accusation, but Sandra stepped forward to put a calming hand on his arm. "He is right, brother," she said placatingly before turning to Chris. "We are recalling all Whitelighters and closing the Heavens for the foreseeable future."

"So this is it?"

A chorus of petrified screams reached them even at their significant height. There came the unmistakable booms of explosions and suddenly the San Francisco skyline began to smoke. Chris leaned over the edge to look down at the ant-sized carnage below. Tiny blurs fled from their rectangles of colour as a triangle formation of black shapes marched across the bridge blocking all six lanes of traffic.

"Good Luck," Sandra's voice came from behind Chris, and he glanced over his shoulder just in time to see the two white-robed Elders disappear.

Welcome the End of the World.

* * *

**The Halliwell Manor**

Piper stood at the stove in the kitchen, brewing the twentieth variation of a transportation potion that should in theory take her to her missing son. So far none of her attempts had worked, but she was nowhere near close to quitting. On the worktop besides the window she had turned on the small TV, only half-listening to the news as her focus centred on the cauldron before her.

"_**Live from the Sky News Centre, this is the News at Twelve with your anchor man, Benjamin Cutler…" **_the serious beats of the channel's theme tune finished the introduction, the screen lighting up to reveal the middle aged man who had presented the news for the past ten years. Piper passed the television a glance, but quickly returned her focus to grating the mandrake root.

"_**Today's headlines: The British Prime Minister refuses to comment on the Page 3 scandal of his second wife… In Japan, the multimedia company Sony has announced the launch of the PlayStation 7, now with full surround virtual reality controls… The growing unrest on the west coast of the U.S. rooted in San Francisco and its unexplained rise in violent crime…"**_

Piper rolled her eyes at the news channel's concept of prioritising as she added the last ingredient and stepped back in time to avoid being blasted by the small explosion. A wave of dizziness came over her as the smoke cleared and she leaned forward to grip the counter, blinking to clear the haze. It had been a long time since she had been so completely immersed in magic, and the last two weeks of nothing but spells, potions and scrying was taking its toll on her supposed-to-be retired body. She suspected the lack of sleep wasn't helping either.

"_**This just in,"**_the news anchor's voice changed drastically, catching Piper's notice despite her exhaustion. _**"Terror on the streets of San Francisco as an angry mob takes to the city in broad daylight. Our local correspondent, Grace Farrell, has more…"**_

Piper stood up straight and gave the small screen her full attention. She found herself looking at a frazzled, and yet still perfectly pruned, news reporter shouting into her mic to be heard above the chaos behind her. Along the bottom of the screen a tickertape declared that it was 'Breaking News' live from downtown.

"_**As you can see behind me, a large mob of people has descended onto the streets and are causing mayhem and destruction!" **_the woman ducked as something large and unidentifiable was thrown through the glass of a building's front door. _**"The attack began only moments ago, the participants of this riot appearing from nowhere in complete synchronicity. We believe this to have been a planned attack, though as to why, we have no idea…"**_

Piper stared at the chaos, seeing things that the reporter either didn't, or simply didn't _want_ to believe. The rioters were wearing a lot of black and brown leather, wielding weapons untraditional of common rioters, let alone the twenty-first century, and starting fires from thin air.

They were demons.

The Charmed One nearly collapsed in shock as her knees weakened beneath her. There were demons, Live, on worldwide television, exposing magic with absolutely no fear of repercussions. Her mind flashed to decades prior when magic had hit the TV network in a very real way. That time she had lost a sister.

"_**I'm sorry Grace," **_Benjamin, the news anchor interrupted, the screen cutting from the young woman's face and back to the studio. _**"We're going to have to stop you there. A local news helicopter is streaming us some extraordinary footage from the Golden Gate Bridge. Kevin, can you hear me?"**_

A young man's face filled the screen. He barely looked old enough to have left college, and Piper suspected that he was very new to the job. He wore a set of chunky headphones, yelling into the attached mic over the constant _fwup-fwup-fwup _of the chopper blades. _**"I don't know how to describe what I'm seeing!" **_Kevin shouted, struggling to find words, his face pale and eyes wide. _**"So I'll just let the footage do the talking…"**_

The camera panned away from the man, revealing a panorama of the majestic Golden Gate. From the distance all that was visible was the mass exodus of moving figures, abandoning cars in a desperate attempt to flee from the dark mass approaching from the other side. A car was thrown into the air, spontaneously bursting into flame before crashing down into an unsuspecting, and hopefully abandoned, people carrier that deflated under the impact.

"_**Holy…" **_the reporter muttered, his curse word censored by the sound of the crash.

The camera zoomed in for a better look, focusing on the front of the dark mass, exposing what could only be described as an army of leather clad warriors. Piper recognised some of the demons from the Book, but she was stunned to realise that even after all of her years as a witch, there was still so much of the Underworld she had yet to be acquainted with.

This time it was clear that a lot of the demons were distinctly un-human-looking. Some sported claws and fangs that would make a sabre-tooth jealous. Others sprouted fur and howled like wolves. A large creature that looked suspiciously like a dragon reared back and spouted a stream of fire into the sky.

"_**Kevin… Kevin?" **_the anchor man's voice sounded over the footage, barely grabbing the reporter's attention as the chaos continued. _**"They're asking for confirmation – are those costumes? Animatronics? Is this some kind of elaborate hoax?"**_

Piper shook her head, briefly wondering how mortals could be so blind and dense when magic dances before their eyes. But then again, she imagined that if the situation was reversed, she'd be praying for a hoax too. Kevin, the reporter, worked his mouth as if he had forgotten how to speak. The camera panned from the bridge and then back to his shell-shocked face. He blinked. _**"I don't think so."**_

The screen was once again returned to the bridge, the camera zooming right in, following the progress of a small group of demons that had broken ahead of the crowd. They clambered over abandoned cars, bending metal underfoot and smashing anything within reach.

"_**Oh my God…" **_a new voice, probably the cameraman's, murmured fearfully. _**"…There's a kid in that car!"**_

Piper gasped as she saw what the man was talking about, the camera zooming in helpfully on a Vauxhall Zafira where an eight-year-old boy pounded on the window. It was wedged between two cars, preventing the kid from opening the doors. His mother was motionless in the driver's seat, slumped over the wheel. The demon group jumped from a Chevy Impala that had been reduced to scrap metal, and surrounded the Zafira, weapons drawn.

"_**Are those… Tasers…?" **_the anchor man asked when the camera caught the flickering light of the demons' energy balls. No one answered him, their focus entirely on the young boy who was about to meet a sticky end on live television.

The demons began shaking and smashing the car, breaking the windows and sending the boy sprawling across the back seat in a shower of glass. A demon Piper couldn't identify grabbed the lifeless body of the boy's mother and dragged her through the windscreen, throwing her into the waiting arms of another. She had to look away for a moment as the pair of them dug into their meal. Then a white-skinned Grimlock reached into the back seat eagerly, his blind eyes crinkled as he grinned with glee.

But then there came a blue glow just off camera, and suddenly the Grimlock was yanked back and out of frame. The cameraman zoomed out slightly to reveal a tall browned-haired man. Even through the graininess of the zoom, Piper recognised him instantly.

"Chris!"

She huddled closer to the small television screen as if she could somehow reach him, completely riveted to the spot.

On the screen, Chris flung out an arm and the two demons feasting on the poor boy's mother were thrown clear of their dinner. The woman was clearly dead, her body a twisted imitation of a human being, covered in a blanket of red. Another gesture from Chris sent the rest of the demons flying. He then pushed one of the cars out of the way with a wave of his hand and darted up to the rear passenger door.

There was a brief pause, and Piper imagined Chris trying to reassure the surely petrified child, and then he yanked the door clean off with another telekinetic pull. There was a tense moment where he appeared to be trying to coax the boy out of the car, and then there came an ear-splitting roar.

The camera zoomed out, revealing the owner of the roar to be the dragon. With a careless flick of its large tail, a city bus was sent spiralling through the sky, heading straight for the Zafira.

"Chris!" Piper yelled, her knuckles white as she watched the spinning blue and white bus in helpless horror.

And then it stopped.

For a moment, Piper thought that she had accidently frozen the TV in a futile attempt to save her son. But then she saw that things were actually still moving, it was only the bus that had stopped. Chris had managed to catch the bus telekinetically, preventing it from crushing himself and the child that still refused to leave the car. But not for long. Piper could see the strain that the act was causing purely through her son's body language. If his powers failed then, both he and the boy in the Zafira would be pancakes on the bridge.

"Come on, come on," Piper whispered, urging Chris to come up with a plan that didn't end with them both becoming breakfast pastry.

Chris didn't disappoint. He lowered one arm, the bus dropping several feet from the adjustment in power holding it up, and split his focus. He reached toward the boy and telekinetically pulled him out of the car and into his arms, orbing in the millisecond it took for his power to slip entirely and the bus to complete its surrender to gravity.

"_**Who is this guy?"**_ the cameraman asked, somewhere between fear and awe. _**"Where did they go?"**_

"_**There!"**_

A brief flash of blue and Chris and the boy reappeared a little further down the bridge, away from the demonic horde. The boy scrambled out of Chris's hold, spared a glance at the crushed car and the near-unrecognisable form of his mother, and ran away. Thankfully, he ran in the right direction, so Chris let him go and returned his attention to the hundred or so demons advancing across the bridge.

"_**What in the name of God is going on?"**_

Piper didn't hang about to see what kind of answer the mortals would attempt to supply to explain the attack and her son's heroics. She had seen her boy, alone, about to face down an army. There was no way that she was going to let that happen.

She grabbed up the emergency potion bag stashed under the kitchen sink, comforted by the soft chinking the glass of many vials of vanquishing potions made. She then used a turkey baster to suck up some of the transportation she had just finished to help her find Wyatt and squeezed it into a vial. She sent a silent apology to her eldest, and then smashed the vial at her feet.

In a millisecond she was whisked to the bay and into the middle of a war.

* * *

**St. Brigid Church, Academy of Arts University, San Francisco **

Pure and utter terror nearly floored P.J Halliwell.

One moment the three of them were admiring some of the student artwork around the historic building, and the next P.J was struggling to breathe as uncontrollable panic overtook all of her senses. She sagged against a wall, dropping the pamphlet she had been reading, battling internally to reign her empathy back in.

Parker gripped her sister's arms, calling her name repetitively in a vain attempt to help P.J back to reality. They could hear the screams that had followed only seconds after her sister's panic attack; the cacophony of multiple fender benders, blaring car horns and the stampede of hundreds of running feet. "P.J? Ladybug?" she resorted to their mother's nickname for her eldest, and finally P.J's eyes snapped to attention.

"Oh god," P.J muttered, deciphering a whole load of malicious intent underneath the blanket of fear and confusion. She only knew of one thing that could feel so evil. She glanced to her telepathic cousin for confirmation, only to find Melinda's face a scrunched up mask of pain. "Mel?"

The young witch gestured that she just needed a moment, and then the pain left her expression and she took a deep breath. "Sorry, it was so loud, I had to turn it off," she referred to her telepathy. "There are demons in San Francisco. A lot of them, everywhere, and they don't give a shit about exposure."

For a moment, P.J was jealous. She couldn't just turn off her empathy like that. As they stood there it was taking everything she had not to curl up in the foetal position on the floor and surrender to the fear that weighed down on her as if it were corporeal. She got past it quickly though, there really were bigger things for them to worry about. "We have to do something."

"Like what?" Melinda asked.

"The demons don't care about exposure, right?" Parker grinned, the smile spreading wider when her cousin nodded. She pulled out a vial of bright blue potion. "Then neither do we. Let's get out there and kick demon ass!"

Melinda looked to P.J who, as the eldest present, would get the last word. The two shared a silent conversation, which ended with them both shrugging. They all unloaded anything unnecessary; such as the massive collection of college prospectuses that they had accumulated, and opened the potion bags they had all taken to carrying over the past year. With one last shared look, the three of them headed out of the church and onto the street.

P.J would have hit the deck again if she hadn't of been prepared for the second blast of emotional backlash that greeted her as she stepped outside. To her credit, she only staggered slightly, and then she stood tall. The road was a long line of smashed and abandoned vehicles, some of them steaming from nose-to-tail collisions. People ran down the sidewalks and between the cars, speeding down the steep hill at a dangerous pace. Some people ventured out of shops to try and see what was going on to cause such madness; and then they quickly joined the stampede.

"Guess we're going that way," P.J muttered to herself as the three of them headed up the hill, having to dodge around the stream of bodies desperately running in the opposite direction. Up ahead she could see a dark mass that wasn't running away. In fact, the figures were moving quite leisurely, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.

Glass smashed. Fires burned. Screams reverbed around them.

As the three witches got closer they began to make out the shapes of the demons more distinctly. P.J was surprised to find that it wasn't just one clan. The horde was made up every demon she had ever seen, and a whole load more that she hadn't. Somehow they were working together when she was pretty damn sure that most of them had deep blood feuds running between them. Who the hell could have organised this? And how?

But that was a question for later. As soon as they were in range, P.J drew three potions from her bag and threw them. Two out of three targets burst into columns of hellfire, while the third glanced disapprovingly at the potion stain on his lovely leather vest. He let out a growl that attracted the attention of some others, and retaliated.

He formed an orange energy ball in his hand and threw it at P.J, who had the sense to duck behind an abandoned Jeep. The car rocked under the impact, showering her in glass, but she ignored the few small cuts and dug into her bag for a more powerful potion.

Meanwhile, Melinda had crossed to the other side of the road where a group of Brute Demons were assaulting a young woman that they had caught. They didn't appear to be trying to kill her, _yet_, but seemed quite content to play catch with her, enjoying her screams.

"Hey!" Mel yelled, distracting the group and accidently making one of them miss the woman as she was tossed towards him. The woman hit the concrete and Mel winced sympathetically before she brandished the handful of potions she had taken from her bag. That made the Brutes recognise her for what she was; their game with the poor woman completely forgotten.

"_Witch," _the one closest to her hissed.

"We prefer, 'Magical Americans'," Melinda quipped, throwing a vial and praying that it worked. When it bounced harmlessly off of the Brutes well-muscled chest and smashed to the ground, she tried desperately to remember everything she could about them. "Ooops."

The Brute she had failed to vanquish laughed, and then gestured at the others who all began advancing on her. The only good thing was that the woman that they had been torturing had found her way onto her feet and disappeared, hopefully somewhere safe. That just left a nineteen-year-old witch and five Brute demons, and that was if none of the others around them decided to join in. "Great," she muttered, and then addressed the demon about to try and take her head off. "Aren't you guys meant to work _alone_?"

Unsurprisingly, the Brute didn't answer, and followed through on a swing that would have easily removed Melinda's head from her shoulders had she not ducked. She could feel the rush of displaced air caused by the force of the attack. _Super-strength, check._

She rolled to one side to avoid the kick of a second Brute, landed on her feet in a crouch and then darted forward between the legs of a third. Once back standing, she spun and landed a roundhouse kick to the third Brute's back, ducked his blind swing and then rolled over the roof of the nearest car in an attempt to put something solid between them.

All five Brutes wore matching grins as they simultaneously disappeared from sight. Melinda blinked in surprise at their apparent retreat, before the car she was hiding behind was lifted into the air and thrown about half a mile down the road.

_Camouflage, check._ Melinda remembered, suddenly losing her confidence as she realised she had five super-strong, _invisible_ demons trying to kill her. Just as she was trying to rein her panic in, her arms were suddenly clamped to her sides and she was lifted off her feet in a bone-crushing bear hug. "Little help?" she gasped as loudly as she could, hoping someone non-demonic would hear her.

P.J, in the meantime, had managed to vanquish the upper-level demon with the orange energy balls and was working her way through the various low level demons he had summoned to his side. As a fireball raced at her, she opened up her empathy as much as she dared in order to channel the ability. She inhaled sharply when she felt her cousin's panic rather than the demons evil, instinctively ducking just in time as the fireball soared above her unaffected. She rolled over the hood of a car and dropped behind it, scouring the chaos until she spotted Melinda. Her cousin was on the opposite side of the street, floating in mid-air as she kicked futilely against whatever held her.

P.J clambered to her feet with the intention of helping Mel, but then a fireball smashed into the car she was taking cover behind, setting it alight. She pulled away from the sudden heat, accidently bumping into a Rubeck demon. Before she could grab another potion, the demon telekinetically slammed her back against the flaming car, her head cracking against the window. Dazed, she didn't retaliate, and couldn't resist when the Rubeck threw her again, this time through a glass storefront.

Unintentionally, the demon had just saved her life. As she rolled to a stop in a sea of glass, the car she had just been right next to exploded. The Rubeck was consumed in the fireball, as were several others that were within the blast radius. The shockwave knocked everything else to the floor and left P.J's ears ringing. She lay in the rubble of what she guessed had once been a clothing boutique not ten minutes ago; the two hits to the head making her forget their dire situation.

Parker was thrown to the concrete by the force of the explosion, though through some miracle, she had managed to conjure a cushion that prevented her head from hitting the sidewalk. She pushed herself up slowly, blinking through the haze, temporarily deafened. She watched the battle, her sensory deprivation making her feel detached from the mayhem around her. The number of demons had thinned significantly, but there were still plenty of them climbing to their feet, seemingly unaffected by the blast.

As she lay there, dazed, she barely noticed the darkening of the sky. The black fog that gathered around them, turning day to night, didn't even register with her. She put the sudden obscurity down to the smoke from the explosion and raging fires, and ignored it.

She tried to find her sister, but P.J was nowhere to be seen, and Parker began to panic. As she settled onto her knees, sound slowly beginning to come back to her, she realised that she had landed on her potion bag. The once blue denim was now a psychedelic assortment of potion stains. How she hadn't vanquished herself, she wasn't entirely sure, but she pushed that thought aside. She tipped the bag out to find that only two vials had survived intact.

Two.

She gave her surroundings another look, roughly totting up the number of demons still left. Even before then she knew that she had nowhere near enough, but now she knew for certain that they were screwed. Yes, she was a conjurer, but she couldn't make potions out of thin air – not ones that worked anyway.

She was distracted by a familiar scream that brought her completely back to her senses, just in time. She threw herself to one side as an energy ball came barrelling towards her, the demons fully recovered and baying for blood. She grabbed up the two potions, not even sure what they were, and then ran towards the scream.

Parker staggered to a stop when she saw what was happening to her cousin. Two massive demons had Melinda stretched between them, one pulling her arms while the other tugged her legs. They were trying to tear her in half.

"Mel!" she yelled, throwing both potions, one at each demon. Through pure luck, the potions had been explosive in nature, their concussive force striking the Brutes and vanquishing them. Without them to hold her up, Melinda dropped to the floor, and Parker skidded down beside her. "Oh my god, are you alright?"

"I feel taller," Mel replied, almost giddily, her eyes unfocused. She then blinked, reality crashing back down on her. "There were five."

"What?"

But then Parker was pulled into the air and held horizontally over what she imagined was a Brute demon's head. She didn't know for sure due to the fact that the demon was invisible, but judging by the sensation of large hands gripping her leg and the back of her neck, she assumed it wasn't telekinesis holding her up. Estimating where the Brute's head would be, Parker conjured herself a long sword and plunged it downwards. She met resistance as the blade wedged itself deep between the demon's shoulder and collar bone, and suddenly she was falling.

The sword flashed out of existence as she conjured herself a mattress to land on. As the Brute was vanquished in a dramatic explosion, Parker rolled back onto her feet and darted to her cousin's side. Melinda was backed-up against the wall of a building, just about avoiding the invisible punches that were creating craters around her.

"Down!" Parker yelled, grabbing Mel by the shoulder and pulling them both down into a crouch, conjuring the thickest wall she could between them and the remaining two Brutes. As all light from the fires was shut out inside their makeshift hideout, the two girls struggled to see each other in the darkness. "What potions do you have?"

Parker felt Mel shrug, and then braced herself as the Brute landed a very powerful kick against her shield. She was growing tired from using her power so much, and as another kick hit she could feel her creation beginning to crack. "I don't know! I don't have many left!"

"Find P.J!" Parker instructed, and she felt Melinda still beside her as she entered her telepathic trance without further question. It was clear that the three of them needed to get out of there. They hadn't managed to stop all the demons, but they had made a dent, and that would have to do, for then at least. Maybe it hadn't been such a great idea of hers for them to try and tackle the demons alone…

"Found her," Melinda announced as a slither of light broke through a crack the demons had created in Parker's shield. "The clothing boutique across the road, and Park… she's hurt real bad."

Parker tried to swallow her worry and focus. "We've got to get out of here."

Melinda didn't disagree. The question was: _how?_

* * *

**SFPD, Twelfth Precinct**

After the constant racket that had plagued the police station for as long as Henry Jr. had been there, the absolute silence that had suddenly settled was unnerving.

Curious, the teenager strayed from the office his father had grounded him to while he went and locked up the criminal that had attacked earlier, and stepped into the bull pen. He had never understood why the room was called that; as far as he could tell, it was just a room full of desks set out kind of like a classroom; nothing bull pen-like about it. But that tangent dropped right out of his head when he saw what had brought the room to silence.

On the far wall was a large flat screen television screen that constantly played the local news on a loop to keep the officers up to date. Now every face, police, criminal and innocent bystander alike, was staring at it in disbelieving shock.

There was a hole in the middle of the financial district. A crack in the earth that run a half mile along the length of Washington Street. And creatures were climbing out of it.

There was no other way to describe it. Human-like shapes clawed their way out of the pit, accompanied by animal hybrids, legendary creatures fresh out of storybooks, massive lizards… Henry Jr. had once spent some time in the Magic School library, waiting for his mom to finish a class or something, giving him time to look through some of the books. He remembered looking at the pictures of ghouls, demons and monsters; all different, all deadly, and not quite believing that they could _all_ exist.

But there they were, in high definition, in all their glory. It was as if the earth had finally grown tired of imprisoning the evil and was spitting it out. And it was destroying everything in its path.

The mass of shapes was shrouded in a dark shadow that spread, thick and quick like the morning fog rolling in from the bay. Before their eyes, the entire district was cast in darkness. But it wasn't just on the screen. As the silent gathering stood frozen, the daylight that shone through the windows was swallowed as if the night had come early. The bull pen fell into complete and utter blackness, illuminated only by the faint glow of the television screen.

Henry Jr. felt the dread seep into his bones, and he knew with absolute certainty that the whole world was about to change. He was glad when his father chose that moment to come back, his face panicked from not being able to find his son where he left him. Junior was a fifteen-year old boy, but in that moment he didn't feel in the slightest bit embarrassed when his father drew him in for a hug.

"It's freaking Armageddon…" one of the officers muttered into the silence; the first one to find his voice in the wake of the literal hell on earth that they had just witnessed.

And then every phone in the room began to ring incessantly, and someone had the sense to turn the lights on, at least temporarily banishing the darkness.

* * *

**The Golden Gate Bridge**

Chris Halliwell dropped to his knees, panting with exertion.

He hated to admit it, but catching that bus? It had taken far more out of him than he thought it would. And from that point on he hadn't been able to catch a break. Even then he knew that it wasn't safe to take a breather, but his legs simply wouldn't support him anymore and he had hit the deck. It probably didn't help that he had been demon-hunting non-stop for the past fortnight and he couldn't actually remember the last time he had slept… or ate… or any of that kind of necessary stuff.

The demons hadn't been able to make it any further across the bridge, what with him throwing cars at them and deflecting the multitude of energy balls that they had thrown at him, but they were still coming. And he couldn't get up. He wasn't even 100% sure that he wanted to.

Was this how it was meant to end?

He knew that he was going to die. Was there any point in fighting it? Wouldn't that just make it worse? It was meant to happen, it had to – he should just give up and accept it already. Right?

He was vaguely aware of a Darklighter standing on top of tanker truck not all that far away. Some instinctual part of his brain could even hear the soft click of the bolt being pulled into place in the crossbow. That was it. That was the arrow that would kill him. He didn't know how he knew, but he did. He felt the release of the weapon as the Darklighter pulled the trigger.

It was over.

Except that it wasn't.

Chris blinked in confusion as he saw the bolt that was meant to be through his heart frozen in mid-air, six feet away from him. He was going to blame his exhausted state for the fact that in that moment he could not for the life of him figure out how the arrow had been halted in its course; but then his mother was beside him and suddenly it made sense. "Chris? Chris, are you alright?"

Her voice broke through his haze, and he looked around to find that the entire bridge had been frozen by his mother's magic. Already, he could see some of the upper-level demons beginning to break out of the freeze, and he knew that Piper would not get off this bridge alive without him. He became more alert, shaking off some of the lethargy the power drain was putting on him. "Uh, yeah," he tried to brush off the worried look she was giving him, completely unaware of the fact that her power was losing effect on the demonic horde. "What are you doing here?"

"You're on the news," She gestured at the helicopter that was still hovering a short distance away. She then handed him over the potion bag she had brought from home. "I'm here to help."

Chris grinned as he took the bag and grabbed a handful of vanquishing potions. The pair of them climbed onto their feet, ready for battle. As Piper stepped ahead and began blowing up every demon within reach, Chris turned and raised an Old Magic barrier to stop the demons from getting past them and reaching the Innocents that were still evacuating the bridge. It wasn't his best, but it would have to do.

The Darklighter that was destined to take Chris's life vanished in a column of hellfire as Piper flicked her hands in his general direction, and deep down, Chris felt something snap. He didn't know what, and to be honest, he was a little busy fighting for their lives to pay the odd sensation any heed; but he did know, without a doubt, that it would come back to bite him later.

He launched himself into the fight with far more energy than he had, throwing the potions his mother had given him and repelling projectile attacks back at their instigators. He figured out pretty quickly that he would run out of potions long before they made it even halfway through the demon army, and so even as he engaged in hand-to-hand with a Fury his photographic memory was flicking through every spell he could recall.

Vanquishing the Fury with its own claws; Chris grabbed a potion from the bag he had slung over his shoulder and threw it into the air, casting a spell he had modified on the fly:

_Take this potion, blessed be  
__Multiply its strength by three!_

As the vial began its descent back to earth, it suddenly glowed white and cloned itself. The now three vanquishing potions exploded under the strength of the spell; showering their contents over the crowd and vanquishing every demon it touched. Piper, who had heard the spell, smiled proudly at her son, before her attention was caught by the sudden disappearance of the sun.

It was as if there was a total eclipse, the sun seemingly swallowed by a shadow that covered everything absolutely. Now the bridge was lit purely by the light of the fires of destruction the demons had left in their wake. Chris could feel the oppressive influence of evil that came with the black fog – he could feel it creeping into his mind, making him angry and burying him in despair at the same time…

With a violent shake of his head he managed to dislodge the hold it had on him, and he turned his attention to his mother. Piper was taking out her rage on anything and everything, and Chris could tell by the coldness of her expression that the influence was setting its hooks in her. "Mom!" he yelled, his focus entirely on her. "Mom!"

He didn't see the dragon launch the tanker truck into the air right at him. If it wasn't for Piper hearing his yell and turning at that exact moment, he would have been squished and burned to a crisp. But as she turned, she caught sight of the tanker, her fear for her child trumping the evil influence that was trying to tell her that she didn't care. With a startled yelp she froze the tanker, mere yards above Chris's head.

The rest of the bridge froze too, allowing Chris a moment to think. "Get away from there!" Piper scolded, her face screwed up as she struggled to maintain her power. "The freeze won't hold much longer!"

"No wait," Chris replied, chewing his lip as he quickly calculated what he wanted to do. "Come here. When I say, unfreeze the tanker – and then blow it up."

"What?" Piper asked incredulously, giving her son a look that clearly said that she thought he was crazy. Then she realised what it was that he was planning. "No, Chris, you can't move something that heavy, not like you are now…"

"We can end this in one move," Chris cajoled, and then gave her a lopsided smile. "Trust me."

Piper folded her arms stubbornly, and then felt her power slipping, and nodded. Chris turned to face the tanker and called on as much of his magic as he could. With one hand he created a wall of telekinetic energy underneath the tanker, and with the other he prepared to throw it. "Now."

As all the weight of the massive tanker hit the wall, Chris felt the strain in every single muscle in his body. He grunted under the pressure, then gritted his teeth, and heaved. Somewhat reluctantly, the tanker reversed its course and went flying back towards the demon horde. Chris grabbed Piper's hand, and just as she flicked her wrist to blow up the tanker, he used the very last of his strength to orb them home.

* * *

The Golden Gate Bridge was consumed in a huge fireball of golden light. The flames spread far and wide, however when they hit the magical barrier Chris had created, they travelled no further, leaving the last of the evacuees safe from the explosion. Once the light died; all that was left was a twisted metal frame, the bridge divided in half by a large gap. Two black skeletal arms stretched from either side of the bay, their fingers reaching longingly for each other, but unable to touch.

The shockwave of the blast was felt by the news helicopter that was still hovering above the bay. Its passengers held on for dear life as the chopper was knocked to one side; but the pilot quickly righted it and absolute silence settled over them.

Kevin Meyers, rookie reporter of KGO Bay Area News, finally remembered how to breathe. His brain struggled to process what it was that he had just witnessed; already attempting to throw a whole load of logic on an event that was is no way logical. He looked out over the bay and at the remains of the iconic bridge, frowning in confusion as an odd black fog came rolling towards them. "What the…?"

His cameraman, Mitchel, was an older, far more experienced journalist who greatly enjoyed pointing out his younger counterpart's mistakes; but in that moment they were both just as clueless as the other.

As they sat there, the last of the daylight was swallowed, and the interior of the chopper was shrouded in darkness. Kevin could feel something settle in his mind, tearing through all of his insecurities and jealousies and bringing them to the surface. He became full of anger and hatred, his hands balling into fists as he felt the overwhelming urge to take out all of his frustrations on whatever, or whoever, happened to be nearest.

"You fucking asshole!" Mitchel suddenly yelled, knocking his camera out of the open door as he launched himself at the younger man. He pinned Kevin beneath him as he began punching him in the face; not in the slightest bit aware of the other scuffles that had broken out around them. "That was my big break! You stole all the glory! The biggest story in history and you fucking stole it!"

The chopper veered dangerously as the pilot got into fisticuffs with his co-pilot. The change in axis was enough for Kevin to turn the tables. They rolled as the chopper spun out of control, leaving Kevin on top as he returned the pounding he had just received. "Yeah?! You're a fucking ass! I'm trying alright! Stop frigging belittling me all the time!"

"You worthless piece of shit!" Mitchel retorted angrily, managing to get his legs up between the two of them and place his feet awkwardly on the younger man's chest. With a feral growl he kicked out, throwing Kevin off of him. Surprisingly, the rookie managed to land on his feet, but at that moment the chopper swung up and to the right.

Kevin Meyers lost his balance; his arms wind-milling almost comically as he struggled to stay upright. He lost the battle, and fell.

Mitchel blinked, and then scrabbled to his feet to watch. The younger man fell the sixty or so feet to the bay, disappearing with a horrifying splash. Kevin's headphones, which had come off during the struggle, lay nearby and Mitchel picked them up with shaking hands. The realisation of what had just happened hit him hard enough to leave him wheezing.

"Oh shit."

* * *

**The Halliwell Manor**

When mother and son rematerialized in the attic, they both fell to the floor; the adrenaline that had been fuelling them running out. After a moment where the pair of them simply focused on the arduous task of breathing, Piper said with a small disbelieving laugh "We just blew up the Golden Gate Bridge."

"Yep." Chris confirmed with his eyes closed as he leaned his back against Aunt Pearl's couch, Piper curled up beside him.

Piper then sat up straighter. "We just blew up the Golden Gate Bridge," she repeated, without the odd laugh, her tone more serious. Chris agreed again. "Oh my God. We just… demons… what the hell is going on?!"

Chris shrugged; although to be honest, he knew exactly what had just happened. It had happened before… in a timeline he was trying very hard to forget.

"I… for a moment… I was just so… _angry_," Piper muttered, more to herself than to Chris. She pushed herself onto her feet, wincing at the cracking of old bones as she staggered over to the Book. "That shadow… in the middle of the day… what the hell was that? Why are demons…? Who…?"

Chris sighed heavily. "Someone opened a hell hole. That's the only way so many demons can be topside at one time. And that shadow? That was Evil itself being unleashed."

"What…? How…? How do you know…? That's not in the Book," Piper struggled to form complete sentences as the events of the past twenty minutes came crashing down on shoulders already under pressure. She flicked through their family heirloom in an almost desperate search, needing answers.

"It happened before, in the bad timeline," Chris admitted.

"How did you close it?"

"We didn't," Chris murmured, still refusing to open his eyes. "It's not possible. Once a door to hell has been opened, it's only a matter of time before the entirety of the Underworld is unleashed. It's like Pandora's Box – once it's opened, it can't be closed. But there's no hope at the bottom of it."

Piper blinked owlishly as she tried to process that information. "So… what do we do…?"

The fear in his mother's voice struck Chris to his very core. He was so used to his mother being self-assured and confident… he didn't like her scared tone – it scared _him_. Despite the protests of his exhausted body, Chris dragged himself to his feet and adopted a persona that he thought he would never ever need again. He became a soldier; the leader of a lost cause. He pushed every unnecessary thought and feeling into a box and buried it deep.

It was Armageddon. This was his speciality. His family needed him to guide them in a world that was rapidly becoming the one he had sacrificed everything to change.

"We survive," he answered, his voice even changing as he slipped behind the stoic mask. Piper met his gaze; a horrible mix of fear, sorrow, guilt and gratefulness shining through her brown orbs. She didn't want to rely on him. He was her child, the little boy that she was supposed to be protecting, but in that moment, she was lost and he was her anchor. "We've got to regroup; get everyone home and we'll take it from there. Where's Mel?"

Piper's worry quadrupled as she thought of her youngest daughter, trying in vain to recall the last conversation she had had with her. She had been so caught up in her search for Wyatt, she had become less vigilant over her other children. How could she have let this happen? "I… I don't know…"

Chris nodded, not blaming his mother in the slightest, and then closed his eyes and cast out his Whitelighter senses. He flinched against the fear and confusion that was overloading the network, but pushed on regardless. He caught a glimmer of his sister and his eyes flashed open. "I'll be right back," he reassured his mother, and then vanished in a column of blue.

Once he was gone and she was alone, Piper allowed herself a minute to cry. It was only for a few seconds; only a few tears escaping her long lashes, but she needed to have a weak moment. She needed to get out at least a little of the guilt, anxiety and terror that had been building ever since her eldest had disappeared. Once she had had that moment, she could bottle the rest up and hide it. Once she had had that moment to unleash some of her inner turmoil, she could be strong.

She would be the Halliwell Matriarch that her family would need in order to survive.

* * *

**Magic School**

"Please sweetie, I know it's hard," Phoebe murmured as she held her youngest daughter in her arms and rocked her back and forth. "But you have to try. You're the only one who can."

Peyton chewed her bottom lip and tried very hard not to cry. They had been at this for the past week, ever since she had admitted that she was still having visions while all the other clairvoyants were blind. Quickly, she had been bundled to Magic School to receive special training. Her Uncle Leo had been quite pushy with her; and though it irritated Peyton to no end that she was effectively being used, she also understood.

They were Halliwells. They would do anything for family.

"Mommy," Peyton whispered, hating how small she sounded in that moment. She was thirteen! She was meant to be a big brave girl! But the visions, the odd glimpses that she would see – they were horrible. They kept changing, but one thing was always constant. They never ended well. There was always bloodshed. Watching that, over and over… it made her feel young and vulnerable. So just this once, she was going to forgive herself for behaving like a child. "I don't want to see it anymore."

"I know sweetie," Phoebe replied soothingly, rubbing her daughter's back in concentric circles. In a small way, she knew what Peyton was going through. In her life as a witch she had seen her fair share of horrible things in her premonitions. She knew what it was like to witness horrors. She hated herself for the fact that she was encouraging her baby girl to live through them again and again. But what choice did they have? "I know it's bad, but that's our job, right? It's our job to see the bad things so that we can stop them."

Peyton looked away reluctantly. She knew what her mother said was true, but that didn't mean that she particularly wanted to go back to that dark place where she helplessly watched the people she loved fall one by one. After a moment, she muttered almost inaudibly "Okay. I'll try again."

"That's my girl," Phoebe squeezed her a little tighter and smiled proudly.

Taking a deep breath, Peyton pushed herself into the deep trance her mother had taught her, her eyes sliding closed. She focused on keeping calm and collected, listening to the softening of her heartbeat as her mind was propelled into the future.

She saw the world, as she always did; it's green land scorched black and its blue seas poisoned brown. The usually white wisps of cloud and weather formations were replaced with this dark haze that shrouded everything in shadow. And then she was pulled in for a closer look.

She found herself watching people screaming and fighting; witches, mortals and demons alike – no one battling for a side, no good or evil. This wasn't a battle for a great cause. This wasn't a war to protect the weak from the strong. This was the most primal fight for survival. And without knowing how, Peyton knew with absolute certainty that _no one_ would win.

She didn't want to see this. Not again. This was the horror she had been seeing in her dreams every night for the past year. And no matter how many times she watched the feral creatures tearing each other limb from limb, she never learned a thing. _When? Why? How do we stop it?_

Peyton pulled away, trying to resurface from the depths where this dark future slept in her subconscious. But instead of returning to Magic School and her mother's embrace, she found herself frozen to the spot as new flashes of the future surrounded her like a movie projector. She watched Phoebe and Paige battling against demons in the endless corridor of Magic School. She watched Tam and Kat being killed by an impromptu firing squad in Chinatown. She watched Chris, Parker and P.J waiting for the inevitable boom that would follow the firing of a missile from an army chopper.

And then she saw the beginning.

With a scared scream, Peyton forcefully wrenched herself out of the vision. She felt the warmth of her mother's arms, heard the distant murmur of concerned voices, and clawed her way back to consciousness.

"Shh… sweetie… it's okay, it's okay…" Phoebe hushed comfortingly. Peyton blinked against the dull light of the room, bringing her mother and her Aunt Paige into focus. The Witchlighter had probably been drawn by Peyton's panicked screams and was now crouched next to mother and daughter.

Peyton shook her head. "It might be now, but it won't be soon," she warned, her voice stronger than she expected. She gripped both her mother's and Paige's hands in her own to make sure that they were listening to her. "Please, when the time comes, please listen to Chris."

Phoebe's brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't understand…"

"Please, please just listen to him," Peyton repeated.

"Of course we will," Paige tried to reassure the young girl with a bright smile.

But Peyton just looked away. She knew, no matter what she said or did, that when the moment came, the Charmed Ones would make the wrong decision. By the time the consequences of that choice hit them, it would be far too late to change anything – and no one would survive.

* * *

**SFPD, Twelfth Precinct**

Henry Sr. may have been a parole officer, but on that day it was all hands on deck, no matter what their job title. Hence why he found himself abandoning the paperwork in his office and out in the bull pen dealing with reports and booking in the people that they had managed to catch.

He had forced Junior to stay in the office and locked the door, much to the teenager's annoyance. He would have much preferred to have sent this son home, but after the images that had been rolling on the screen there was absolutely no way he was letting his kid out on the streets alone. With everything being so crazy there was no chance of him getting away to escort him either. Normally he would have called Paige to come and get him via orb, but with everyone so on edge he doubted that was a good idea.

Yes, magic had been exposed in a big way. But trying to explain to a room full of scared people, who had just witnessed the city being systematically destroyed, the differences between good witches and demons? Yeah, that would go down well.

So instead he focused on his 'new' job and tried to keep his head on his shoulders every time someone had a violent breakdown and attacked. There was something different in the air, ever since the weird black cloud had made it as dark as night in the middle of the day. Henry, having been around magic enough the past twenty odd years, could sense that much. There were times when he would find himself becoming irrationally angry and the urge to lash out would almost overpower him. But then he would hear his wife's voice in his head, soothing the rage and reminding him that that wasn't him.

That little voice? That was all that was keeping him sane as everyone else succumbed to that dark influence around him.

"I said shut up, asswipe!" Officer Marks snapped at the detainee he was meant to be questioning, his voice loud enough to catch the attention of most of the people in the room. Henry furrowed his brow at the usually calm man, but then realised why he was demanding quiet. All eyes in the room followed Marks' line of sight to the TV screen on the wall. "Hit the volume!"

An image of the remains of the Golden Gate Bridge filled the screen, and every fist clenched in anger. The once-red bridge was iconic, synonymous with the city of San Francisco, and someone… something…? had gone and destroyed it.

"…_**culprits behind the destruction of the Golden Gate have been identified," **_the news anchor informed his viewers, with an appropriately solemn and angry expression on his face. Henry sucked in a breath, somehow knowing that this wouldn't end well. The screen changed to show the last few moments of the bridge as a man and an elder woman exploded a tanker truck. There was a freeze frame of the two grainy faces, that were then cleaned up and compared with file photos. _**"Local nightclub and restaurant owner, Piper Halliwell, and her son Christopher are here shown wielding supernatural powers that resulted in an explosion large enough…"**_

Panic filled Henry as every head in the room swivelled round to face him. It was no secret that he was married to Piper's sister; and the Halliwells had always been notorious to the SFPD. And now they had just been named as the terrorists behind the city's chaos. _Shit._

Marks was the first on his feet, glaring daggers at Henry. "What's this Mitchell? You're one of _them_?"

What should he do? Feign ignorance? Play the clueless mortal card? What about Junior?

It was the tone of his colleague's voice as he had venomously spat the word '_them_' that made the decision for Henry. The anger he had been keeping at bay came back full force. What the hell did this moron know? That was his wife and family he was insulting! No one, _no one_, referred to his family like that – not after everything he had seen them go through to keep people like Marks safe!

"Are you freaking blind?!" Henry found himself yelling before he had even come up with a course of action, the darkness in his head making him see red. "There were demons on the bridge! They killed them all so that the Innocents could get off safely!"

"Demons? _Demons?" _Marks retorted incredulously. "I didn't see no _demons_. I saw a bunch of protestors in costumes being murdered by a couple of freaks!"

"Huh, guess you are blind then!" Henry shouted incredulously. "Seriously? Protestors in costumes?! Those were demons and monsters – there was a fucking dragon! You saw them climbing out of that hole! There's one right frigging there!"

He gestured at a scavenger demon who was sitting in handcuffs at Marks desk, its green skin paling visibly as accusing eyes were turned its way. Marks studied the demon whose forked tongue flickered nervously between its teeth. Without another thought, Marks drew his service pistol and put a bullet between the demon's eyes. Henry flinched at the gunshot, momentarily regaining his senses.

And then the gun was turned on him, and the room collapsed into pandemonium.

* * *

**Broadway Street**

Chris orbed into the middle of the street to find himself in the centre of the madness. All around him demons ran loose, too caught up in their own fun to notice his Whitelighter-esque arrival. Abandoned cars flamed brightly, illuminating the unnatural darkness with orange light and casting flickering shadows. The only good thing he could see was that there didn't appear to be any Innocents caught up in the mayhem.

He took it all in in a millisecond, way too accustomed to dystopia to really pay the hell any heed. His well-trained eyes scoured the scene until he caught sight of two Brute demons kicking a wall that didn't quite fit in with everything else. He would recognise one of Parker's creations anywhere.

"Hey!" Chris yelled, making the Brutes turn to face him with matching irritated glares. The shield Parker had concocted chose that moment to shatter, leaving the two clearly exhausted witches vulnerable. This seemed to confuse the Brutes who now had a choice between easy targets and the fresh prey that had dared to distract them.

Chris made the choice for them, waving an arm and sending them flying. They didn't go as far as he had hoped – what with them being ridiculously heavy and Chris running on fumes – but it was enough.

"Mel, Parker!" he closed the distance between them, skidding to the ground in front of them. "Are you alright?"

"_That_," Parker gasped between deep breaths from the exertion of over-using her magic "was some _fantastic _timing."

Chris smirked and then helped the two of them climb to their feet, all too aware of the Brutes that were already recovering and looking very angry. In the state they were now, they wouldn't survive round 2. "Was P.J with you?"

"Yeah," Parker grimaced with a worried expression, and then gestured across the road. "She's over there and she needs some serious help."

With a nod Chris gave the two girls a light shove in the right direction, his eyes never leaving the two now-upright Brutes. The pair gave the witches matching twin growls and then began advancing; panting heavily in anger and annoyance. Chris gave their surroundings another quick glance, he gaze settling on the burning shell of the car that had had the misfortune of exploding earlier. With a flick of his wrist and far more effort than he would later admit, he propelled the wreckage into the foggy sky and barrelled it into the Brutes.

They weren't vanquished, but the concussions that they had just received made them think twice about getting up quite as quick as before.

Chris allowed himself a grin and then darted after the girls who were climbing through the smashed in window of a clothing boutique. He stepped in behind them, glass crunching underfoot. He had to blink to adjust his sight to the pitch darkness of the store compared to the bonfires that illuminated the street. When his eyes settled on the scarily still form of his oldest cousin he dropped to his knees beside her, ignoring the sharp cuts he received. "P.J?"

"Oh god, oh god, oh god…" Parker rambled as she reached for her sister's pale face, and then pulled back fearfully. "Is she…? Is she…?"

"She's alive," Chris informed her, though he kept the 'not for much longer' part to himself. "Come on. We'll take her home and call Paige."

Melinda and Parker both placed a hand on Chris's shoulders as he gently lifted P.J onto his lap and orbed them all back to the Manor. The ocean of glass beneath them was replaced with wooden floorboards, the overhead bulb struggling to light the attic in the black fog that by now coated the entire city.

Even before they had completely reformed, Piper was on the floor next to them. She took in the sight of her dirt-covered daughter, her panicked niece and the bloody P.J in an instant, and then shouted at the ceiling. "Paige!"

Within seconds the youngest Charmed One materialised, and without asking a single question she dropped to her knees and held her glowing hand over P.J. It wasn't until every scratch and bruise had disappeared from the three girls that she rocked back on her heels and finally asked "What in the world happened? Why is it so dark? What is that… feeling…?"

"Long story," Parker answered, her colour returning to her face now that her big sister was sitting up and conscious. Unsurprisingly, her sarcasm returned just as fast. "It's just the End of the fricking World."

"Huh?"

"What is going on?" Phoebe asked once she appeared in blue orbs, courtesy of her nieces. Tam and Kat materialised with their aunt, Peyton and Uncle Leo in tow; taking in their oddly dark surroundings with confused looks. "Why did you just disappear like that?"

"I called her," Piper answered, clambering back to her feet and then gesturing at P.J. "The girls were hurt and needed healing."

"How?" Leo asked as Phoebe immediately knelt down beside her eldest daughters and began studying them for signs that they weren't okay despite Paige's healing. Parker rolled her eyes and batted her mother's hand aside as Phoebe reached for her face, making P.J smirk in the corner of her eye.

It was Chris who answered this time. "Look, this will be a lot quicker and easier if you just let us explain." He was leaning heavily against the bookshelf having discovered when he stood up that standing un-aided wasn't agreeing with him. He crossed his arms over his chest and tried to force the exhaustion off of his features, though he wasn't entirely sure that he was successful. "You know that 'Coming Darkness' that we kind of forgot to tell you about? Well we now know what it is."

"It started not long ago," Piper picked up the explanation. She couldn't quite believe how much had happened in such a short space of time. "I turned on the news and watched as hundreds of demons suddenly spilt onto the streets and started destroying everything…"

"Demons… on TV…?" Phoebe questioned, looking up at Piper. Her eyes widening in fear as the memory of their older sister flashed across her mind. "Magic's been exposed…?"

Chris and Piper shared a look, remembering the news chopper that had recorded the whole of the battle on the bridge. "Definitely," the said simultaneously, and then Chris continued. "I was on the bridge when the attack started talking to the Elders – who have closed the heavens by the way – and orbed down to help get the Innocents away from the demons. Mom came and helped and then we… we kinda… destroyed the Golden Gate…"

"On Sky News," Piper finished, the pair of then earning shocked look all round.

After a moment of complete silence as that settled in, Phoebe finally found her voice and turned to Parker, P.J and Mel. "So… what happened to you three?"

"We were helping Parker look at colleges when both me and Mel sensed the demon attack nearby," P.J explained. "We decided to try and help and got into a fight with a whole horde of them. It kind of went downhill from there."

"How does something like this happen? Is this even possible?" Paige asked in disbelief, unconsciously pulling her girls closer to her as the scale of what was happening began to settle in.

Leo sucked in a breath apprehensively as the only theory he had made him realise just how screwed they were. "Someone must have opened a hell hole," he said, glancing to Chris for confirmation. "It's literally a hole in the ground that leads straight to the Underworld, allowing every evil being onto the surface at the same time."

"Oh my God…" Paige muttered. "What… how… can we close it…? Reverse it somehow…?"

"No," Chris answered. "But that's not the worst of it anyway…"

"What the hell could be worse?" Phoebe asked, panic seeping into her voice against her will.

"It's not the demons that we really have to worry about," Chris replied, looking away from all of them as he flashed back to the last Armageddon he had survived. "They're predictable. It's the mortals you've got to watch out for. They've just had their world literally turned upside down by the monsters that they refused to believe in. They don't know the difference between demons and witches – they will see magic, and they will retaliate."

Paige, the only Charmed One to miss what exposure did to the mortal populace the first time around; and being married to one who knew the truth, gave her head a quick shake. "They wouldn't all react like that… right?"

Chris met her eyes briefly. "That weird feeling you're sensing? This darkness in the middle of the day? It's a side effect of opening a hell hole. Evil itself is unleashed and gets into everyone's heads; amplifying their fear and rage until common sense becomes a thing of the past. Sure, some people can resist, like us, but mostly they're just gonna lose it."

Paige looked to Leo, still not able to believe what she was hearing. He looked at the floorboards. "It's true. Everyone will be affected by the Evil in some way. They might turn on each other, or more likely, they'll turn on anything related to the magic they perceive as the enemy."

"So what do we do?" Phoebe asked, climbing to her feet as well and placing her hands on her hips. "They might hate us, but they're still Innocents – what are we meant to do with them?"

"Avoid them," Chris said firmly, getting stunned and slightly appalled reactions from his family. He just sighed and rubbed his tired face. "Look, I know you want to go out there and vanquish the demons, showing the mortals that we're the good guys – that's what you did last time – but it doesn't work. There are hundreds of thousands of demons in the city, and ten of us. We lose, the mortals still see us as the enemy and we're still screwed."

"What do you mean 'last time'?" Paige questioned. "Did this happen in the bad timeline?"

Chris nodded. "Yeah. Wyatt opened hell holes across the world in the space of a week; we're lucky we've just got one. It took a month of failures and close-calls for you all to realise that fighting back gets you nowhere."

Paige and Phoebe shared a look, briefly glancing at Peyton who was quietly listening to the exchange, her face as white as a sheet. An agreement passed between them as they decided that they would listen to their battle-scarred nephew rather than follow their impulse to get out there and start vanquishing. "Alright," Phoebe murmured, making Chris blink in surprise. He had been expecting more of a fight than that – the last time they hadn't even realised that he was talking, let alone listened to him. "So what should we do?"

It took Chris a moment to find the right words. It had been such a long time since people had looked to him to tell them the right thing to do; trusted him to make the right decisions. The pressure that he hadn't missed in the slightest suddenly piled onto shoulders already weighed down with stress. Yes, he had witnessed the mistakes that were made the first time around, but that didn't mean that he now had all the right answers. What if he just made different mistakes and the outcome was still the same? He couldn't go through that again…

"We have to assume that we're in this for the long haul," Piper interceded, reclaiming her role as matriarch when she saw the internal struggle playing out behind her son's green eyes. "The hell hole can't be closed as far as we know, and it's likely that things will only get worse."

"We'll need supplies and a safe place to hole-up," Chris added, throwing his mother a grateful look. "Magic School would be best, but I'll fortify the ward on the manor as well."

"We will save who we can," Piper promised. "But right now, family comes first."

* * *

**SFPD, Twelfth Precinct**

"You should make this easier on yourself and just talk."

Henry Sr. glared up at the man currently making his life a misery, and spat. It was such an immature thing to do; something that he would scold his parolees for doing, but the act of defiance made him feel incredibly good. Despite the bruises, broken bones and bloody lip that he was sporting.

With an angry swipe, Marks wiped the gob off of his cheek, and then backhanded Henry. The force of the blow sent his head spinning, an angry red mark warming his cheek. "Why are you protecting _them?_ They're _monsters._ They're not worth it Mitchel." Marks grabbed Henry's chin and turned his face back to meet his eyes. "Unless of course you _are_ one of _them."_

Henry rolled his eyes. "I'll guess I'll add 'deaf' along with 'blind' and 'stupid' to your repertoire."

That comment earned him a punch to the gut that had him bending over and spluttering painfully. The pair of them were in an interrogation room, the table pushed against the wall, just leaving the two metal chairs in the middle facing each other. Henry was cuffed to one of them, while Marks ignored his in favour of looming over the 'traitor' threateningly. The better to punch and kick the man for every wrong answer he gave.

After Marks had shot the scavenger demon point blank in the head, everything had gone mad. Twenty brawls broke out at once, the stray fist of an enraged car thief knocking the gun that Marks had aimed at Henry, accidently saving his life. The rest of it was a blur. Henry remembered being angry beyond anything he had ever felt, the rage turning his vision red as he unleashed everything he had on whatever, or whoever, was closest. But then he had been hit upside the head and everything had gone black.

Next thing he knew he was cuffed to a chair and Marks was asking him stupid questions. So far, no one had mentioned Henry Jr. and he prayed that it stayed that way. He hoped that since his son was locked in his office that he had been forgotten about during the fight. If they were lucky, Junior would be kept out of Marks' witch hunt.

Though Henry would not have said that this was his luckiest day.

"What are they?" Marks questioned, backing away slightly and putting his abandoned chair between them, gripping the back of it until his bloodied knuckles turned white. "What do they want?"

"Now, are you referring to my wife's family? Or to the demons that just clawed their way out of Washington Street?" Henry asked, not even trying to keep the mocking out of his tone. "Because that's two very different questions. Or is it four…?"

He got a kick in the shins for that one.

"They're all the same! They're all monsters! _Freaks!_" Marks yelled, spittle flying from between his teeth with each word. "Everything was fine before they appeared! And now the city is being destroyed! Is that what they wanted? Huh?"

"Jesus Christ! Listen to yourself!" Henry shouted back. "Are you really gonna blame all of the city's problems on the sudden arrival of magic? Newsflash! Magic, witches, demons? They've been around far longer than we have!"

Marks knocked his chair onto the floor, and then kicked it for good measure. Taking the fact that that Marks was taking his rage out on inanimate objects rather than his face, Henry decided to continue. "Demons usually live in the Underworld, but every time they appear on the surface good witches, like my wife, fight them and stop them from hurting Innocents. You are calling the people who save your life on a regular basis _monsters_ – can't you tell the difference?"

There came a silence following that history lesson as Marks stared at the wall and brought his breathing under control. "They're all the same," he murmured quietly, his tone surprisingly calm. He then turned to face Henry. "I didn't want to have to do this, Mitchel."

Henry felt dread build up in his stomach.

"We know the boy's adopted, it's not his fault what family he was taken in by," Marks gestured at the two-way mirror and after a moment the door to the room opened.

"No." Henry whispered as he saw his son standing in the doorway, the strong grip of an officer turning his arms purple. "Please Marks, he has nothing to with this. He's innocent, he's not involved…"

Marks slowly picked up the chair he had abused and helped cuff Henry Jr. to it. Senior met Junior's frightened gaze, both of them attempting to appear strong and reassuring for the other, though neither quite succeeding. "We know," Marks eventually replied. "But you are. This is the only way to make you talk. For both your sakes, I hope you do."

Marks punched Henry Jr. in the gut, the pain in his son's grunt ripping through Henry's heart.

* * *

**The Halliwell Manor**

Leo sat on Aunt Pearl's couch sorting through the ready-made potion supply that they had accumulated over the years. It would have been quite impressive… if it weren't for the fact that it paled in comparison to the number of demons currently invading the city.

Sighing heavily he looked over to his wife who was cataloguing all of their potion-making ingredients and taking note of the necessities that they were short on. There would be more in Magic School, but they had to keep track of what they had. Who knew when the next time they'd be able to stock up would be?

Paige and Phoebe had taken the girls back to Magic School to prepare for the likely large influx of refugees there might be once they got to rescuing others. That left just the pair of them and Chris, who stood by the Book of Shadows noting down the most relevant and helpful spells they had. They might be required to act at a moment's notice – it was best to be constantly prepared than to be caught short.

Well, that's what he was meant to be doing. As Leo watched him he realised that his son had stopped flicking through the pages five minutes ago, and for the last few moments had been staring unfocused at the cursive text. He looked exhausted; his skin too pale, his eyes hooded and his clothes hanging off his lean frame more than Leo remembered. He knew that Chris had been pushing himself ever since Wyatt had disappeared, and had been acting off even before then. Now it seemed that those months of ignoring his body's needs were finally catching up to him.

As Chris began to waver slightly, Leo climbed to his feet and came to stand beside him. Piper looked up from her collection of bloodroot and followed him with her eyes. Just as Leo came within a foot of the Book, Chris's legs buckled but Leo caught him before he could hit the deck. Piper was up in an instant.

"I'm alright…" Chris murmured, even though most of his slight weight was being supported by his father. He brushed Piper's hand off as she reached up to check his temperature. "I'm just tired. Nothing caffeine won't fix."

Piper pursed her lips as she picked up on the subtle request, not in the slightest bit happy that her stubborn son refused to admit he was close to passing out. "Alright," she eventually agreed with narrow eyes. "But only because it's the End of the World."

Chris offered her a half-smile, not quite his usual charming grin, but enough to get himself instantly forgiven. As Piper turned and left the attic to brew him a coffee, Leo forcefully guided Chris over to the couch and sat him down, coming to kneel in front of him despite his aged body's protests to the action. "You're not alright," he pointed out, making sure that Chris met his concerned gaze. "You're exhausted."

Chris rolled his eyes, apparently not too tired to have an attitude. "What do you want me to do? Take a nap?"

"Honestly? Yes," Leo answered shortly, and then sighed. "But given the situation that might not be overly possible."

"I know my limits, Dad."

"Yeah, I know you do," Leo agreed reluctantly. "But you also seem to enjoy pushing yourself way beyond them on a regular basis. You only have so much magic Chris. Yes, it's a lot more than most witches, but it can still run out if you use it too much. If you continue to exert yourself like this you're going to crash – more likely sooner than later. What if that happens while you're out there, huh? You can't protect everyone all the time, and if you keep trying like this you're going to end up being a liability. And I _know_ that that will drive you mad."

Piper returned just as Leo finished his lecture, giving Chris an excuse not to answer or agree to anything. Leo pushed himself back to his feet as his son gratefully accepted the steaming mug of caffeine and gave him one last warning glare. He highly suspected his words had fallen on completely deaf ears, but someone needed to at least attempt to talk some sense into the headstrong brunet.

For a few minutes Piper and Leo returned to their original tasks, the attic settling into comfortable silence as Chris drank his coffee. Admittedly, a little of his colour returned, but he still looked like death warmed over as far Leo was concerned.

And then Chris flinched slightly and looked to the ceiling.

"What is it?" Piper beat Leo to the question, neither of them missing the anxious look that flickered across their son's expression.

"Sean… he's calling for help," Chris explained as he put his mug down and stood up, only swaying slightly as he did. "I've got to go."

Piper stood as well and slung a potion bag over her shoulder. "Not on your own you're not."

"Mom…"

"No." She cut him off as she walked up beside him and took his arm. There was no way that he was orbing off without her. "We can either both go, or neither of us. And I'm sure you don't want to leave Sean on his own with the city like it is."

Chris chewed his lip for a moment, looking incredibly like his mother. "Fine. But only because it's the End of the World."

Piper smirked at her own words and then smiled at Leo. "Finish up here and go back to Magic School. We'll meet you there."

"Alright," Leo nodded, just about managing to keep the worry from his face. The anxiety that had accompanied him through his days and nights for the past fortnight twisted painfully in his gut as he watched his wife and son disappear in twin columns of blue light. Just as they vanished completely, three words slipped from his lips impulsively.

"I love you."

* * *

**Magic School**

Paige directed the Magic School staff to their posts once she had finished filling them in on what was happening out in the real world. It had been hard to sound reassuring to a room full of pale, shocked faces, but she guessed the inner-Whitelighter in her was better at being 'serene in a crisis' than she had thought.

Once the sea of black cloaks had dispersed, Paige turned round to smile as brightly as she could at her twin girls. Phoebe and her three daughters had vanished with the others, leaving just the three Mitchel-Matthews to themselves. "Alright! Let's see if we can make this place a little more homey, shall we?"

Tam and Kat shared a look; probably doing the weird psychic conversation that they always did. It wasn't actually telepathy, the pair of them were just constantly on the same wavelength and could read each other like books, but it was kind of an on-going joke in the family. After a moment, they turned back to their mother and nodded. "There are some empty dorm rooms that we could borrow beds from."

"Good idea," Paige praised, quickly heading towards the wings where the students that boarded at the school stayed. She needed to keep busy, active – that way she wouldn't have too long to think about just how bad things were. That way she could stay strong for her kids and her family. This really wasn't the time for her to give in to the fear that gripped her heart and squeezed with every breath.

It was as they were orbing a handful of beds into the library that the grip tightened like a vice.

Gasping in pain, Paige clutched at her heart and dropped to her knees in shock. She could feel two burning holes in her chest, her breath coming out in fiery pants and the copper taste of blood scorching the back of her throat.

"Mom!?" Kat knelt beside Paige and grabbed her arm as Tam came and sat in front of her. They both try to reach their mother who eyes had become unfocused and pained. "Mom? What's wrong?"

"Oh god no…"

Without much in terms of conscious thought, Paige orbed. The twins shared the briefest of glances before following their mother's trail and appearing moments behind her. They materialised in the alley that they recognised as being right next to the police station where their father worked. Their eyes widened as they came to the only conclusion they could given the information that they had. "Mom… is Dad…?"

Paige didn't answer, her feet marching under their own volition round to the front door. The twins caught a glance of the world that their cousin's had described, the reality far worse than what they had imagined. Terrified screams pierced the faux night of day, all abruptly silenced and followed by hideous cries of enjoyment and pleasure. Fires burned, filling the already smoggy sky with smoke and reducing their ability to see.

But they forced themselves past their horror and followed closely behind their mother as she walked right through the station's front door. Inside it looked like a warzone. There was no organisation to the chaos. There were holes in the plywood walls and furniture lay in tatters all over the floor. Smears of blood coated chunks of wood and metal that had become melee weapons in the battle royale earlier. There were barely any people left standing, reducing the normally bustling station down to a skeleton crew. Those that were left sported war wounds and black eyes. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened.

As Paige headed deeper into the rabbit warren she barely took in any of the carnage that lay around her. The burning in her chest was getting worse, her breathing shallow and laboured. She had but one thing on her mind. Anyone who tried to stop her would have to be suicidal.

"_Oh my God!" _A uniformed officer screamed as she stepped into their path and recognised them. "_THEY'RE HERE! THE MONSTERS ARE HERE!"_

The reaction to those words was unbelievable. The three witches had never felt so much hate directed at them all at once. Every set of eyes glared at them down the barrels of service weapons, twitchy fingers already curled around the triggers.

Paige glared back. If looks could kill, the term 'skeleton crew' would have become literal.

"Get the fuck out of my way."

"Or what, _witch?"_ A middle aged man with bloody knuckles hissed through a swollen lip. "We'll put you down before you can blink."

Tam and Kat scooted closer to their mother, wide eyes watching the many weapons pointing at them warily. But to be honest, they were more afraid of the black rage that was radiating from their mother in waves. "Put _us_ down?" Paige narrowed her eyes at the man and made a jerky gesture at their surroundings. The motion made everyone flinch. "Do you really think that _we_ are the animals?"

The man let out a short bark of harsh laughter. "You _monsters_ destroyed our city unprovoked – and _you_ want to debate _morality?_"

"We didn't do this," Tam found herself automatically defending, accidently drawing attention away from their mother and onto her. But she refused to back down; not after all the sacrifices her family had made for the people currently accusing them of terrorism. "We tried to stop this!"

"Bang up job you did there, sweetheart," the man snorted derisively.

"Get out of the way," Paige demanded dangerously, the grip on her heart loosening as the connection grew weaker.

"You think I'm afraid of you?"

"Get out of the way," she repeated. "Or I'll give you something to be afraid of."

The man swallowed audibly, and then adjusted his grip on his gun. "I won't give you the chance."

The deafening report of the weapon being discharged was followed by deathly silence.

* * *

**Downey Street, Ashbury Heights**

Chris and Piper orbed onto the street, and couldn't believe what they were seeing.

"What the hell?"

Against a wall several people had been lined up facing the brickwork with their hands behind their heads. Chris recognised Sean among them, along with the owner of an occult shop they visited in Chinatown and a couple of members of a local coven. On the other side of the street stood a row of people armed with assault rifles liberated from a nearby guns and ammo store.

It was a vigilante firing squad.

At the appearance of bright lights, the armed gunmen turned to face them. The initial shock that made their eyes widen and fingers' twitch travelled from recognition to anger in one fluid motion. "It's _them!_ The terrorists that destroyed the bridge!"

Piper and Chris shared guilty looks before they both raised their hands slightly to look as unthreatening as possible. There wasn't a great deal of point in trying to deny that one – what with it being true and broadcast on national news. "That… was a… accident…?" Piper tried with a half-shrug, earning herself disbelieving glares from the impromptu judge and jury. "Look, we are the good guys – the creatures we blew up? _They_ were the bad guys!"

"Like we're gonna listen to a word that comes out of your lying mouths, _freak."_ The man who had identified them spat, taking a bold step forward, his weapon never lowering from her face. "Now, we are performing a… _public service_… if you will. Make this a bit easier on yourselves and line up nice like the rest of your kind so we can get our _justice."_

"Yeah, like that's gonna happen," Chris retorted with an impatient eye-roll. Piper threw him a look and he decided to keep any further comments to himself.

She took a careful step forward, not flinching as all the guns aimed at her jerked nervously in their owners' grips. "Listen carefully. We don't want any trouble. We're not here to hurt anyone or stop you – even if you are acting ever-so-slightly crazy. We just want to take our friends here to a safe place…"

"You think that we are just going to let them go? Now that we know what they are? What _you _are?" The man growled, speaking on behalf of his ragtag group. "You're the ones that are _crazy_."

Chris just about swallowed the urge to sigh. Even after having witnessed this before, he still couldn't believe just how short-sighted the mortal populace could be. Admittedly, they were under the influence of the hell hole, but still – could they really be this blind?

As Piper continued to try and argue their case, Chris became aware of the approaching beat of thirty or so booted feet. He turned slightly, keeping his movements small so as not to draw unwanted attention, and looked at the street behind them. Flames from the many wild fires cast flickering shadows across the walls, the odd shapes created distinctly demonic. _Crap._

Chris turned back, assessing their situation. There were twenty armed mortals ready to fire at the slightest movement; twelve witches lined up for execution, thirty odd demons about to join the fray – and two of them. There wasn't a single scenario where this ended well.

The demon horde rounded the corner, whooping in joy and excitement as they saw fresh prey in a stand-off in the middle of the street. This immediately drew the focus of the vigilante group who couldn't decide whether to react with anger or fear; the fight or flight response arguing behind their eyes. The leader of the group shouted accusingly over the growing riot "So you've summoned some of your friends for back-up, huh?"

Piper turned to the side and flicked a hand at the approaching demon army, freezing them all mid-step. "Those are not my friends."

The impressive display of magic had the mortals gaping. Chris then disarmed them all with a flick of his wrist, the guns wrenched from their white-knuckled grips and thrown to the side. "You should really start running."

But the vigilante group were not to be dissuaded so easily. Their faces twisted into masks of rage – some of them running towards them unarmed, some pulling out knifes or baseball bats, or any other object that they had selected to battle the demon apocalypse. A few dived for the guns that they had been separated from. At the same time the freeze wore off of the demons, and all hell broke loose.

Chris waved an arm to push away the advancing group, trying to cause as little harm as possible. He then turned, telekinetically grabbed two dumpsters from the sides of the streets and tried to create a barricade to slow down the demons. Bullets, energy balls and athemes started flying as the situation completely disintegrated around them.

Piper quickly came to the conclusion that blowing up the mortals wasn't an option, despite how tempting it was, and freezing them wasn't a very good idea either. That would just leave them defenceless and unable to flee when the demons overran them. Instead she turned to the small group of terrified witches and dug into her potion bag. She found a vial of the super-strength transportation potion she had been making that morning to find Wyatt and tossed it Sean.

"Magic School!" she instructed, relieved when the novice nodded in understanding. He gathered the others closer and tossed the vial at their feet; all twelve of them disappearing in a puff of smoke. Piper then turned her attention to the demons, because them, she _could _blow up.

The two witches found themselves sandwiched between two sides who were fighting indiscriminately, neither of them really caring who they were hurting so long as they were hitting something. Chris tried to keep them apart, knowing that the mortals wouldn't stand a chance against the demons. That was the only reason that they were staying when to be honest they should have been long gone. The mortals might have been running on some twisted morals, but they were still technically Innocents and the two witches couldn't leave them to defend for themselves.

A bullet grazed Chris's arm as he disarmed a knife-wielding mortal that was trying to take on a Brute demon. Chris barely noticed the injury, his attention completely occupied by the Brute. He managed to toss the demon away, though it didn't go all that far, and was immediately back on its feet.

It continued like that for an indeterminate amount of time, the mother and son team barely holding back the two uncontrollable forces.

And then Chris heard a gunshot that was oddly louder than the others. Pain bloomed in his chest and made him freeze in terror. But it wasn't him that was hurt.

Everything slowed down as the cacophony of the mad frenzy around him dulled to a distant roar in his ears. He turned and watched in shock as his mother's body fell to the ground.

Finally, his ability to move came back to him and he darted for her, catching her before she could hit the concrete and get trampled underfoot. He orbed them both blindly; not caring in the slightest about the fight anymore. The mortals were on their own. They had just shot his mother.

They reappeared in an alley a little way down the street. Chris kneeled on the ground and cradled Piper's head in his lap. He choked in panic as he saw the hole in her sternum and the waterfall of blood that soaked through her jumper, the red appearing black in the darkness. She was so still, her skin so pale it seemed to glow. "Mom…? Mom!"

Her eyelids flickered, her brown orbs rolling as she fought to focus on his voice. Her breathing came out in weak, wet gasps, a trail of blood escaping the corner of her mouth. "Paige!" Chris yelled at the sky.

"PAIGE! Mom needs you! PLEASE!"

* * *

**SFPD, Twelfth Precinct**

The bullet froze inches from Paige's face.

The entirety of the precinct came to a standstill under the force of Kat's magic. Paige passed her daughter a brief, grateful look, and then continued into the station unhindered, the twins close on her heels. She wasn't overly familiar with the building; beyond the location of her husband's office, but she was being led by the pain in her heart, her feet following the route as if it had been etched into her soul.

Finally they came to the door that she knew the rest of the family was behind. With more force than necessary, she wrenched it open, and came to a stunned stop.

Inside the interrogation room there were two metal chairs that faced each other. Handcuffed to one of them was her husband, to the other was her son. Their heads were bowed as they were both unconscious, their chests rising and falling shakily as they took pained, raspy breaths. Their shirts were soaked through with the blood pouring through the bullet holes in their chests.

"_No!"_ Paige hissed in denial as she closed the distance between them. With a casual wave off her hand the cuffs were orbed off of them and the three witches eased the two men onto the floor. Tam lifted her father's head onto her lap as Kat held their brother, Paige coming to kneel in the middle. Her eyes flickered between the pair of them, her inner-Whitelighter telling her something that she really didn't want to hear.

They were both dying.

And she would only have time to heal one.

_PAIGE! Mom needs you! PLEASE!_

Guiltily, Paige ignored her nephew's desperate cry. She already had to choose between her husband and child – she couldn't help anyone else.

"Mom…?" Tam prompted quietly, her grip tight on her father. Their breathing was getting so shallow that if it wasn't for the silence of the room she wouldn't have been able to hear it at all.

Tears spilled down Paige's face as she closed her eyes and prayed. She held her hands over the wound and let her love flow into the golden glow; apologising the whole time for the heart that had stopped beating.

She made her choice.

* * *

**Downey Street, Ashbury Heights**

"PAIGE! PAIGE PLEASE!"

"S'alright…" Piper slurred her eyes finding her son's. She could feel her sister's heartache and knew that she wouldn't be coming. She understood completely – she just had to make sure that her son did too. "P-Peanut… it's'alright…"

Chris looked down at his mother and came to the same realisation that she had. Even if Paige heard his cries and came now – she would be too late. "No Mom… it's not. I can't lose you again. I just can't."

"You'restrong…" her words melted into one as she tried to say as much as she could between her last breaths. "You'llbe 'kay… they'llneedyou…"

"Mom, I need _you_," Chris argued, gripping her shoulders tightly as he held her close. "Please don't leave me. _Please."_

Piper reached up a shaking hand and gently touched her son's cheek. "I love you."

The strength left her arm, but Chris caught it and held it to his chest before it dropped. He could feel her slipping away in his arms; her eyes fluttering closed as each laboured breath passed between dry lips. "I love you too, Mom."

"Happy… birthday… Peanut."

* * *

**To be continued…**


End file.
